


Unmei

by TopHatCat



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alan and Eric's blossoming relationship, Blood, Childhood Memories, Cigarettes, Drunkenness, F/M, Fear, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Grim Reapers, Illnesses, Language of Flowers, Love, M/M, Mental Instability, Normal Life, Pain, Red (Color), Shinigami, Slice of Life, Smoking, Souls, True Love, flatmates, i'll think of more tags later, mentor, reaper glasses, student, teacher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 137,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9941783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHatCat/pseuds/TopHatCat
Summary: A lot happened with Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby before the Thorns of Death arrived...Circumstances cause a shy, flower-loving student to move in with his alcoholic, untidy mentor, forcing the both of them to open up to each other as they never thought they would.  Can the two manage to face their fears, cope with the task of collecting the souls of the dying, and make their relationship blossom?  Not to mention keep the flat tidy and make sure the cats are fed before work?





	1. A Personal Mentor

“Mr. Eccles?  Mr. Eccles? Are you in there?”

Sendyn Eccles smiled when he heard the voices outside his door.  Adjusting the glasses that every grim reaper wore, he turned from the cabinet and sat down at his desk. “Come in,” he replied.

Three reaper students entered and Eccles nodded to them.  “How are you three today?”

The three young men looked at each other.  “We’re fine,” said the blond one.

“Glad to hear that, Desmond.” Eccles studied his students for a second. “Something on your mind?”

The three exchanged glances again, and then the black haired one stepped forward. “Well, sir, we wanted to talk to you about someone.”

Eccles inwardly sighed. He could already see where this was going, but he didn’t say that. “Alright, Grey, do you want to say this someone’s name?”

Grey and Desmond both seemed unsure, as if their confidence had slipped a little. They looked at their friend.  The last student, Fredrick, shook his head at his friends. “It’s Alan, sir.”

Eccles knew that was the name that would come out his student’s mouth.  Alan Humphries, the small new reaper that didn’t seem to fit in.  Only a few weeks into the Shinigami Retrieval section of the academy.

“What about him?” Eccles asked.

“He’s different,” Desmond said.  “He’s…”

“Weird,” Fredrick put in bluntly.  “Yesterday, we were all talking in the library.”

“Talking about what sort of soul we would be assigned to collect first,” Grey added.

“We’re all chatting, and he’s just sitting there,” Fredrick continued, “and suddenly he’s all like, ‘I wonder if they’re scared when they die’.”

“He was actually worried about the humans,” Desmond said, Fredrick’s intensity seeming to strengthen his will to accuse. “Reapers aren’t supposed to be worried about humans!”

“Something’s wrong with him,” Grey nodded.

Eccles held up a hand. “Now, students. Don’t be too harsh.  Bullies are the last thing we need.  We are exemplary reapers, after all.”

The three students looked guilty at each other and bowed respectively to their teacher.  “Forgive us, sir.”

“Now run along to your work,” Eccles said, rising from his chair.  “You have three written exams to hand in tomorrow.”

“Oh no!” yelped Grey.

“I totally forgot!” Desmond cried, rushing for the door.  Grey followed close behind.  Fredrick bowed to Eccles again. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Eccles.”

Eccles nodded as the student trailed his friends out the door. When they were gone, he sighed and ran his hand through his longish brown hair.  Though he would not say it in front of the students, his own opinions were quite similar to their own.  Alan Humphries was an odd reaper, and Eccles wasn’t sure how to teach the young man to think in the ways of the rest of the Shinigami Dispatch Society.  Alan would have to come around the idea that a job was a job, leaving little time for feelings. Collecting souls was one of the most important jobs that anyone could have, and sympathizing with the dead and dying would only put the collector and the rest of the society at risk.

The more Eccles thought about Alan, the more concerned he got for the student. The reaper reached for a pen and paper.  He needed to tell someone higher up about this.

I _IIIIII_ I

When the knock on the door came, Will moved back from his filing cabinet and seated himself in his chair, shuffling some papers. “Enter,” he answered in his usual cold tone.

The door opened and Eccles nodded to Will. “Mr. Spears, may I speak with you?”

“I am very busy at the moment,” Will said, picking up a pen.

Eccles took a few more steps in. “It’s about a student.”

“Ah, yes,” Will said. “I got your memo.”  The reaper set down the pen with a sigh. “Very well then.  Sit down.”

Eccles did and suddenly he knew how his students had felt.  He felt bad talking about Alan in such a way, but it was necessary.

“It’s about Alan Humphries, correct?’ Will said, opening a folder.  Eccles nodded as Will pulled out the memo.

“Yes, that’s right.  He’s a fairly new student. He’s only been here for a few weeks.”

Will scanned the memo. “You gave some information here.  Notably his sentiment for the dying.”

“Yes,” Eccles said. “He feels bad ending their life.”

“Most of the students do,” Will said.  “It was not an easy thing for even me to accept at first.”

“I know,” Eccles said, “And I felt the same when I started here.  But most of that wears off in the first two weeks or so. Alan is beyond the normal time required to come to terms with collecting a soul, and shows the same passion as when he arrived.”

“He may just need a firmer hand,” Will said.

Eccles understood the words were aimed solely at him, but he only shook his head. “I have talked with him many times, Mr. Spears.  He genuinely cares for the dying and…” Eccles hesitated.

“Yes?” Will prompted.

“He once told me he wished he could save them all.”  Eccles shook his head. “Save them from the loneliness of death.”

Will’s face became harder.  “This cannot be tolerated, Mr. Eccles.  It is a reapers job to collect the soul, not save it. Only in very special occasions do we allow a human to live.  Alan Humphries must understand this or else he will only be trouble, like Grell Sutcliff.”

“I do not know what more I can do,” Eccles said in despair.  “I have never had a student like this before.”

Will was silent for a moment.  When he spoke, it was thoughtful.  “Perhaps a special mentor.”

“You mean someone who can privately take him under their wing?”  Eccles nodded slowly. “Yes, it is a good idea.  But who?”

Will shot him a glance. “Do not look at me.  I have too much overtime as it is.”

“Perhaps Mrs. Sutcliff?” Eccles suggested.

“I would not put a struggling student in Grell Sutcliff’s teachings if it were the last day in the existence of reapers,” Will said flatly. “I was thinking of… Eric Slingby.”

“Eric Slingby?” Eccles frowned. “Are you sure?  He’s…”

“An exemplary reaper who does his job in a quick efficient manner.”

“I was going to say he’s a bit rough around the edges,” Eccles said. “And he’s never personally mentored before.”

“We cannot coddle,” Will said, adjusting his glasses. “The world does not coddle, nor does death. We are Shinigami, Death Gods, we do our jobs professionally.”

Eccles opened his mouth to object again, but Will was already stowing the memo.  The conversation was over.  The teacher closed his mouth and rose from his seat.  He bowed respectively. “Good day, Mr. Spears.”

“Indeed,” Will replied, not taking his eyes from the paper in front of him.  Eccles left quickly, uncertainty weighing him down.

I _IIIIII_ I

“Alan, hey, Alan!”

The young reaper turned, pushing his wispy light brown bangs away from his glasses. “Eh?”

A student ran up to him, holding a letter. “Mr. Spears just gave me this.  He said to give it to you.”

“Mr. Spears?” The look on Alan’s face was surprised and wary at the same time.  “Why would he be giving me a letter…? Thanks, Roger.”  The reaper took the letter and opened the envelope.  Pulling out the paper, he unfolded it and looked at it.

“What does it say?” asked Roger.  A small group of students had gathered around them.  Mr. Spears sending any student a letter was almost unheard of.

“It’s, um,” stammered Alan, his eyes flying over the words.  A taller student reached over and snatched the letter out of Alan’s hands.

“Hey!” Alan cried, but the student skipped away, reading the words out loud.

“ _Alan Humphries,_

_Your teacher, Mr. Sendyn Eccles, has contacted me about some issues concerning your way of thinking about death.  I have arranged for you to have a personal mentor.  Talk to Mr. Eccles today after your last class._

_William T. Spears._ ”

“Looks like you’re in trouble!” the student said.

Alan’s pale face flushed red. “Give that to me, Ty!” He tried to snatch it away but Ty danced out of the way.  “Stop it!”  Alan yelled, and pushed Ty, who lost his footing and fell to the ground. Alan clenched his hand into fist and drew back his arm.

“Hey, chill out!”

A hand grabbed Alan’s arm and the reaper looked up to see a tall man standing over him.  The reaper was tall with shaggy blond hair and brown braids done tightly in cornrows on his right temple.  A small dark beard gathered under his lower lip.

“Mr. Slingby!” Alan gasped.

“What’s going on here?” the reaper asked, looking around.  Two other older reapers were with him and their disapproving stares made the rest of the students stand stiffly at attention.

“He, he took my letter,” Alan said, pointing at Ty.

Eric’s sharp reaper-green gaze turned to the student. “Is this true?”

Ty nodded, looking shamed and a bit frightened of the reaper.  He held the letter out to Alan. “I apologize.”

Alan took the letter and stuck it into his pocket.  Eric cast a glance over the others. “Get on, all of you.”

The students dispersed rapidly, guided by the two older reapers.  Alan made to go, but Eric stopped him.

“Are you Alan Humphries?”

Alan turned and bowed. “Yes, sir, that’s me.”

Eric nodded. “I hear you were having some trouble adjusting.”

“Oh?” Alan’s gaze flickered to Eric’s face, and then back down again.  He was confused as to why this higher ranking reaper would be concerned about him. “I mean, yes, sir, I am.”

Eric’s hand rested heavily but kindly on Alan’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” the reaper said.  “It’ll come to you.”

Alan suddenly felt the urge to spill his feelings to Eric, but he simply bowed again. “I-I think I am going to be late for class…”

“Of course,” Eric said. “You’d better go.”

Alan nodded quickly hurried away down the hall.  At the end of it, he stopped and looked back around the corner.  Eric was standing, looking out of one of the windows.  Alan took the rumpled letter out of his pocket and read the words again.

_“I have arranged for you to have a personal mentor.”_

A feeling of despair washed over the reaper.  As if he wasn’t teased and ridiculed enough…  Folding the letter, he looked back down the hall, but Eric Slingby was gone.  Straightening his glasses, Alan resumed his walk to class.

I _IIIIII_ I

Later that day, Alan walked down the hall toward Mr. Eccle’s office, nerves eating away at him with every step.  Reaching the door, he knocked, and the teacher’s voice called for him to enter.

“Alan,” Eccles said with a smile as the reaper came in. “Have a seat.”

Alan did, not saying anything.  Eccles hesitated for a moment, and then went right into the matter.

“You understand Mr. Spears’ letter?”

Alan nodded. “Yes, I do.” He leaned forward. “Mr. Eccles, I don’t need a personal mentor!  Death doesn’t affect me anymore; I’m past that.”

The words were as phony coming out of his mouth as they were in his head, and Alan could see Eccles knew it.

“Alan, this is what’s best,” the teacher said, and his voice became kind. “Sometimes certain things are hard for people.  Being a reaper doesn’t come as instinct for anyone.”

Alan looked down at his hand. “Maybe it doesn’t come at all for one.”

“Not true,” Eccles said. “You just need a definite guide.  Someone who can really help you.”

“I’m sure you could, Mr. Eccles,” Alan said, desperately trying to change the teacher’s mind.

Eccles shook his head. “No.  I have much to do already with the others. You need someone who can put all their focus into you.”  Opening a drawer, Eccles started shuffling through papers, looking for something.

Alan leaned back in his chair.  It was no good.  He was about to have a personal mentor.  Deep down, he knew he wasn’t embarrassed by it, not at all. The fact was he was afraid of disappointing someone else, someone who as going to take their time to try and help him.

“No one can change my feelings,” Alan muttered, and Eccles looked up.

“Did you say something, Alan?”

“No,” the reaper said, sitting up as Eccles handed out a paper to him.

“This is who you’ll be learning under,” Eccles said, and Alan looked at the paper in his hand.  A flutter of surprise went through him.  The name brought a face to mind, a face he had seen only few hours ago.

“Mr. Slingby?”

Alan looked up as Eccles nodded. “Yes.  It’s who Mr. Spears thought would be best.”

Alan glanced at the paper again.  Eric Slingby was known as one of the best soul collectors in the Retrieval Dispatch and known for his capable and effective work.  But as far as Alan knew, he taught no classes in the academy, and was solely a collector.

Eccles was talking again now. “Go to his office first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

Alan nodded, now knowing words would have no effect.  He stood and bowed to the teacher.  “Good evening, sir.”

Eccles nodded. “Good luck, Alan.”

Alan went for the door but Eccles stopped him with a question. “Alan, do you have any friends that you would like to support you in this?”

Alan stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I don’t have…. No, Mr. Eccles.  There’s no one.”

“Alright…” Eccles said, and Alan fled before he could say any more.

Friendless.  Everyone else talked while he read, they laughed while he listened, joked while he cried.  And he couldn’t stop the downward spiral of loneliness and solitude.

As he walked down the hall, he looked at the paper in his hand. Eric Slingby.  He wondered what had been said to the reaper.  Did they forewarn Mr. Slingby of the complexities of his new pupil? Alan didn’t have much time to think about it, because a group of students had gathered at the end of the hall, waiting for him.

“So?” one asked. “What did Mr. Eccles say?”

“Who’s your mentor?” another asked.

Weariness came over Alan and he forwent the thought of trying to leave without answering their questions.  “Eric Slingby,” he said tiredly, and all the students looked at each other with wide eyes.

“M-Mr. Slingby?” one said.  “He’s supposed to be really mean!”

“Yeah!” said another. “I heard he never smiles!”

Alan started walking quickly down the hall toward the academy doors, but the others flocked behind him like geese.

“And he’s got a saw as his death scythe cause he like to saw off the limbs of people he collects souls from!”

“Isn’t that against the rules?’

“Not for him! He got special permission.”

“He doesn’t seem that bad to me,” Alan said, pushing open the doors and leaving the building.

“You haven’t heard the rumors,” Roger said in a warning tone.  “You’ll be lucky to survive his teaching with only a few cuts and broken bones.”

“He keeps students who were naughty after hours!” said another.  “I don’t want to know what he does!”

“Who does what?”

Everyone turned at the cold voice.  Standing on the walk not far from them was Will Spears.  The crimson haired reaper beside him grinned with pointy teeth.  “I do believe they’re talking about Eric again.”

“Mr. Spears!” the students gasped collectively.

The red reaper frowned. “I’m here too.”

“Mr. Sutcliff!” the students said, obediently mimicking their first reaction.

Will sighed and adjusted his glasses.  Grell placed her hands on her hips. “That’s _Mrs_. Sutcliff, if you don’t mind.”

“Be quiet,” Will said. He looked at the students. “What are these rumors you are talking about?”

The reapers looked at each other. “It’s just stories we’ve heard,” squeaked one of them.

“Undoubtedly the older generation enjoys tormenting the younger.” Will shook his head. “I will never understand students.”

“They simply have a broader imagination than you, Will, darling,” Grell said.

The students giggled at the term of endearment and Will’s eyes flashed. “Don’t loiter on the walk,” he said and the students scattered in all directions.  “Alan Humphries?”

Alan looked back. “Sir?”

“Ignore their prattle.  Your intelligence level is beyond their nonsense.  Listening to them was foolish.”

Alan wasn’t sure if he had just received a compliment or a rebuke.  He settled for a “yes, sir,” and hurried off.

“You are too hard on these young ones,” Grell said, tapping Will’s chest. “All they want to do is have a little fun.”

“Making Eric out to be a horror show is not fun,” Will said, resuming his walk. 

Grell shrugged and smiled, following him. “Each to his own, my dear.”

 


	2. First Meeting

Morning came far too soon for Alan Humphries.  He wasn’t due at Eric’s Slingby’s office until classes started, but Alan left before his roommates were even awake.  He gathered up his papers and made sure his glasses were clean before leaving and heading down the walk to the Retrieval section of the Dispatch Building.  He had never gone this way before, always heading in the opposite direction toward the academy.

As he walked, more reapers emerged from their flats and homes, until the street was a bustling hub.  Work started early for death gods.

Alan felt a bit overwhelmed at it all and entered the main doors in a rush of confusion.  He quickly tried to make his way to a lift, but his slight frame made it difficult to get through.  Several people bumped into him, and one caught his arm but was lost again before he could thank them.  Just as he thought he would never make it; his hand hit the lift’s up button.  Leaning against the wall, he took several deep breaths.  Looking around the entrance hall, he let the enormity of the job seep into him.

The large range of jobs meant that all sorts of reapers gathered in this enormous sprawling building.  From writing out the death list to making glasses, maintaining death scythes to collecting souls, something was always happening.

As Alan waited for the lift, he heard a deep laugh and saw the tall figure of Eric Slingby partway across the room, standing next to another pair of lifts.  He was with two other reapers, talking animatedly with them, his death scythe propped carelessly on his shoulder.  After a moment he seemed to sense Alan’s eyes on him, for he turned and looked around.  His gaze caught Alan’s and he tossed him a casual salute.

Alan sent an uncertain wave back, and Eric seemed about to walk over, but then the lifts doors opened and his friends called for his attention.  As the doors closed between them, Alan’s own lift dinged and permitted him to enter.

Getting in, he found himself alone.  As he pressed the button and started upward, he thought about what the other students had said yesterday.  Alan was almost positive anything they had said about Eric was false, but there was no denying the man’s power.

_ ‘All stories stem from some truth,’ _ __ said a little voice in his head. He ignored it. “I’m just nervous,” he promised himself.  But that didn’t stop his heart from beating faster as he left the lift, and headed down the corridor.

The hallways here were much quieter, a few reapers moving from room to room, but that was all.  Alan has skipped the cubicle levels and now made his way past the higher ranking offices.   On the very top floor, the offices were all along the outer wall, with a few large rooms in the center.  By a sign, Alan knew at least one of them a communal lunch/workroom and he assumed the others were meeting rooms or something of that sort.

Trying to be quiet and avoid anyone’s gaze, he got lost twice and when he did find the right corridor, he almost missed the office.

Backtracking a few steps, he stood in front of the door, staring at it for a few moments.  Then he raised a hand and knocked.

I _IIIIII_ I

An hour earlier had found Eric Slingby crouching over his toilet retching his guts out.

“You sure you’ll be okay, man?” his friends had asked when they left him at his door at 2 in the morning.

“I’ll be fine,” he had promised. “I just need some sleep.”

But sleep had brought nothing but bad dreams and he’d spent the last three hours in the bathroom smoking and throwing up the alcohol he had consumed.  His friends thought his drinking was all in good fun, an easy way to party and find a girl for the night. 

Eric knew they were wrong.  He drank to get himself out of the hell he experienced every night.  The pressing loneliness and the gaping black hole in his heart that nothing and no one could fill.

“Bloody fool,” he growled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Who says you’re lonely? You’ve got drinking buddies.”  Pushing himself up, he reached for the package of cigarettes that sat by the sink.  Lighting one, he went to the window and stuck his head out, leaning on the sill.  Blowing out the smoke, he watched it float away into the night sky.  With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, fingers lingering over his cornrows.

“Huh,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I have no friends.”  He looked down at cigarette in his hand.  “Gotta get out of my own head and make some.”  He flicked the ashes down to the ground below and scoffed out loud at the night sky.

Inside he could feel the solitude tearing up his soul.

Half an hour later Eric stepped out of the shower, toweled his hair dry and in ten minutes was walking to work.  His death scythe was easy in his hand, his usual attire of a suit with no waistcoat, loose tie and open collar presenting the image of one who had just woken from a restful night’s sleep.

His ‘friends’ greeted him at the door and they walked together to the lifts.  The bustling room swam around Eric and he found himself running into a smaller XD reaper.

“Whoa!” he said, yanking the reaper back to his feet. “Careful!”

As he followed his friends he was surprised to see that the reaper he had run into was the student he had spoken to the other day.  Alan Humphries.  Eric had heard from Grell Sutcliff that the younger reaper was having trouble adjusting.  Eric wondered what he was doing here in the main hub, but the crowd had already pushed distance between them.

At the lifts, his friends were joking and talking and Eric joined them in a laugh about something he didn’t understand. A second later he wished he hadn’t; his stomach was churning again.  As he tried to keep an easy expression, he thought he could sense someone watching him. Turning, he found Alan looking at him from across the room.

Eric nodded to the reaper and Alan sent a small wave back, looking noticeably more depressed than any student Eric had ever seen before.  He took a step toward him, but then the lift dinged, ready to be boarded.  With a last glance at Alan, Eric left the entrance hall and headed toward his office.

Five minutes later he left his friends at their cubicles and continued to his office level. It was mostly quiet but for Grell’s identifiable voice coming from the office at the far end.  Eric heard Will’s sharp tone ordering the red reaper out and he ran the last few steps to his office.  He ducked inside just as Grell opened Will’s door.

“I still don’t think all that paperwork is necessary!” the red reaper’s loud voice blared through the hall.

Eric leaned against his door, praying Grell didn’t knock. He really didn’t need any sort of play-by-play of anything that had happened last night. He was happy to let whatever he didn’t remember stay locked away in the drink-sodden recesses of his brain.

Grell’s high heeled shoes tapped down the hall and faded out to silence.    Eric sighed and went around behind his desk.  His office was a mess.  Shoving aside a stack of papers, he stood the chair up and sat down.  Rubbing his eyes, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a crystal flask. Pouring himself a glass, he started rifling through his schedule, sending several memos to the floor.  Taking a sip of brandy, he scanned the calendar.  A second later he choked on his drink and almost spit it out all over his desk.

“I’m a mentor!” he groaned.  “I forgot!”  Looking around at his chaotic office, his heart sank.  This would never do…  Seeing the clock on the wall, he groaned again. Any minute now, some student would knock on the door.  Haphazardly shoving papers into folders with inhuman speed, he swore under breath.  What was Will thinking, putting _him_ in charge of some youngster?  He didn’t even know who he was mentoring, and the memo was buried and lost in the unknown depths of his desk drawers.

A few minutes later, he stood and looked around his office.  It wasn’t nearly as clean as it should have been, but at least all the papers were put away, mostly, and there were no cigarette butts on the floor, or half open drawers.  Eric glanced at the clock again. It was past time; whoever he was mentoring was late.

The second the thought crossed his mind, a soft knock sounded on the door.  Eric quickly went and sat at his desk. “Come on in,” he called.

The door opened slowly and a flicker of surprise went through Eric.  It was none other than Alan Humphries, the very student he had been thinking about lately.  Now he knew why Alan was in the Dispatch Building.  He was Eric’s student.

Alan was standing awkwardly in the door and Eric motioned to a chair. “Have a seat.”

Alan nodded. “Thank you.”  He sat down, gripping his satchel so hard his thin fingers were white.

Eric reached out his hand. “Eric Slingby,” he said, and the student lifted his own arm.

“Alan Humphries,” he said, and Eric couldn’t help but smile a bit when his large hand nearly engulfed Alan’s small one.  The student’s hand was so slim Eric was afraid he would shatter it like glass.

“We’ve met,” Eric said, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, sir,” Alan said, and Eric saw him searching for words. “I didn’t really thank you before…”

Eric waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.  And call me Eric.”

“Yes, Mr. Eric.”

Eric’s smile was bigger this time.  “So, Alan, why are you here?”

Alan looked surprised. “I thought Mr. Spears would have told you-.”

“He did,” Eric said. “I just want to know why _you_ think you’re here.”

Alan looked even more surprised at that.  Eric supposed it was because the entire time he had been a reaper, learning the ways and the rules, everyone had been telling him what and what not to do, what his problems were, why he was wrong.

_ “And here is someone who is asking me what _ I _think…”_ Alan hesitated for a moment, contemplating.   Eric sat patiently waiting, and Alan tried to organize his feelings.  When he spoke, it was with shame.

“I care about the dying and I shouldn’t,” Alan said.  “Their lives are ending… their stories have finished.  And I… I just think it’s sad.”  He looked at his satchel. “But that’s not supposed to matter.”

He finished and waited for Eric to rebuke him.  He’d heard it plenty of times from Mr. Eccles and his other teachers.  Instead, he heard a faint drumming and looked up to see Eric tapping his fingers on the desk, still watching him.

“There’s a bit more, isn’t there?”

Alan wasn’t sure what Eric was talking about.  He spoke hesitantly.  “I guess I think I’m an awful reaper and will never be able to do my job.”

“There,” Eric said, leaning forward and pointing at him so suddenly that Alan jumped.  “That’s why you’re here.  Doesn’t matter what Eccles says, or even Spears.  They think they can change your mind by drilling into your skull that fact that we’re NOT supposed to feel anything, NOT supposed to care.  And their ending intentions are correct.  However.”  Here Eric pushed his chair back toward the wall where his death scythe sat on two nails.  “They’re going about in a way that’s making you feel like you’re an incurable disease.  That’s not true.”

Alan watched Eric in fascination as he took his scythe and laid it on the desk in front of him.  The saw’s sharp teeth glinted in the light, and Eric tapped the shiny blade.  “You can’t just go out and reap souls. It’s a mindset. What we’re doing is our jobs, yeah, but it’s also necessary. Death is cold and cruel, but what we’re doing is part of it.  This isn’t a game, but there’s no reason you should hate yourself because you can’t learn all the tricks the first time ‘round.”

As he listened to Eric, the doubt and fear in Alan’s heart eased a bit.  The constricted dread that had chained him down was crumbling and he soaked up Eric’s words attentively.

“So,” Eric said, “think you can try and learn this profession from me?”

Alan nodded quickly. “I think I can, Mr. Eric!  I can certainly try.”

Eric grinned. “Good.”  His eyes went up to the clock. “Whoa, you still have written exams with Mr. Eccles, don’t you?”

Alan looked at the hands of the clock and leapt up. “Yes!”  He bowed to Eric. “Thank you very much, Mr. Eric.”

“Just Eric,” the reaper said. “Don’t forget; you’re stuck with me this afternoon too.  Think you can be on time?”

“I won’t forget,” Alan said, and blushed “I got lost on the way here.”

“See you later,” Eric said and Alan nodded earnestly. Then he was gone and Eric slumped back into his chair.  Rubbing his eyes, he blinked and looked down at his death scythe.  His reflection was slightly warped, making it difficult to read his expression in the metal.

“Heh,” Eric chuckled shortly. “Funny the words you say to someone else…”

He lifted his scythe and turned around, placing it back in its place.  Crossing his long legs, he absentmindedly rubbed a circular stain a glass had left on his desk. 

_ ‘Funny, the words you say to someone else,’ _ __ he thought, _‘and yet fail to listen to them yourself.’_

Shaking his head, Eric reached into his pocket for the small box and book of matches.  Lighting the cigarette, he wished the smoke could catch all his fears and carry them away in one exhaled breath.


	3. First Lesson

Mr. Eccles looked over the students in the classroom.  He had given them a thirty minute essay and all their heads were bent low over their desks, the only sound the scratching of pencil on paper.  But as the teacher’s eyes traveled across the room, he saw one student wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to his work.

As Eccles made his way over to Alan, he wondered what the student was thinking about.  Alan was always very diligent in his work, but now he was sitting, chin in hand, staring out the window.

“Alan?” Eccles whispered, so as not to disturb the others.  Alan didn’t react and Eccles said a little louder, “Alan.”

Alan jumped and looked around at Eccles.  “Oh? Oh! I’m sorry, sir!”

Eccles looked down at Alan’s paper.  It had ‘The Hazards of Soul Interaction’ written neatly across the top, but underneath that were numerous sketches of flowers.  There were several kinds Eccles recognized, but the one that bloomed across the paper in excess was a small flower that grew in bunches and spread like a blanket over the essay.

“You have ten minutes left to complete the essay,” Eccles said pointedly, and Alan blushed.

“I’ll get it done, sir.”

Eccles nodded as Alan pulled out a new piece of paper and began scribbling furiously.  As the teacher walked back to his own desk, he pondered over Alan’s daydreaming.  He had no doubt it was because of Eric Slingby.  Sitting at his desk, Eccles wondered whether Alan was distracted because the meeting with his new mentor had gone good, or because it had gone badly.

At the end of class, the students placed their essays on the teacher’s desk and when Alan laid his down, it was nearly as long as the others, though his handwriting was noticeably written in haste.

“Alan,” Eccles said, and the reaper turned back.

“Sir?”

“Are you meeting with Mr. Slingby again today?”

Alan nodded. “Yes.  Right now, actually.”  He glanced at the clock over the door and the teacher waved a hand.

“Go on then.  I don’t want to make you late.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alan said, and hurried out the door. Eccles leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together, deep in thought.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan reached Eric’s office slightly out of breath, but the clock on the wall showed he was five minutes early.  He thought about whether he should knock or not.  Five minutes was a rather long amount of time, what if Eric wasn’t ready for him?

As he stood hovering outside the office, footsteps sounded at the end of the hall and Alan turned to see Grell Sutcliff walking toward him.  The red reaper was checking her reflection in a compact and absentmindedly swinging her death scythe and so didn’t see Alan until they almost collided.

“Oh, hello,” Grell said, as Alan dodged the sharp teeth of the death scythe. “What are you loitering in the hall for?”

“I’m early,” Alan said as Grell snapped shut the compact and slipped it into her coat pocket.  “I’m Mr. Slingby’s student,” he added.

“Will told me,” Grell said. “And you’d better just go in.  Eric’s not here at the moment.”

“Oh?” Alan looked at the door.  _‘Could he have forgotten about me?’_

“Just go in,” Grell said, pushing Alan toward the door.  She turned and headed for her own office. “Not much point of you standing out here, is there?”

Alan sidestepped the chainsaw blade again and glanced again at the door.  Should he just walk in? Mrs. Sutcliff seemed to think it was alright, but there was a lot of stuff Mrs. Sutcliff thought was alright that wasn’t.

 _‘I am here for a meeting,’_ Alan reminded himself.  _‘And I am on time.’_ So, after a few knocks with no answer, he turned the handle and slowly went in.  The office was indeed empty and Eric’s death scythe was gone from the wall.  After a second of standing in the doorway, Alan noticed the piece of paper lying on the center of the desk.

_Alan,_

_I went down to the Administrative Department.  Meet me there._

_~Eric_

The Administrative Department…  That was where the To Die List was written out and organized.  He had taken a class tour there during his first week.  Folding the letter, Alan put it into his pocket and walked out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.  It was only when he had nearly reached the lift that he realized he had no idea where he was going.  He assumed the Department was somewhere in the building, but the Dispatch Building was huge, sprawling for who knows how far, and almost as tall as it was wide.

After a moment of wondering if he should find a map or try to look for the place himself, he decided it would be best to ask someone. The only person he could think of was Grell, so he headed back down the hall toward the reaper’s office.

“Come on in,” Grell called when Alan knocked. The younger reaper opened the door and was nearly blown away by the color inside. Everything was in varying shades of red and black, but the room was surprisingly bright despite the dark hues.

Grell was in the process of organizing, but she had apparently just painted her nails, for the papers she was holding were pinched between her thumbs and forefingers.

“You again?” Grell asked.  “What is it?”

“I need to find the Administrative Department,” Alan said, holding up Eric’s letter.  “I don’t know where it is.”

Grell stood, tossing the papers over her shoulder.  “I’ll take you!  Anything to get out of this paperwork.”

“Thank you,” Alan said as Grell put on her knee length coat, careful not to ruin her nails.

“It’s takes a while to get used to this place,” Grell said as they waited for the lift.  “Only after working here for a while can you really know where everything is.”

“It is a rather large building,” Alan agreed, stepping into the lift.

“Large is an understatement,” Grell said. “Try giant, huge, massive.  I really don’t know what they were thinking when they built it.  It can wear out a girl’s shoes walking from one end to the other.”  She looked at her nails and blew on them as the lift doors opened. “And what with all the reapers… Just finding the right room can take ages.  Why, when I first started here, it was nightmare just trying to find Will in all the mess.  It was almost like he was avoiding my longing gaze…”

Alan wasn’t really listening anymore.  The crowd in the main hall was as heavy as before and he felt like it would drown him before he got anywhere.  Lunchtime for the reapers meant everyone doing office work stopped what they were doing and went to their favorite restaurant or headed to the lunchrooms.  Alan was trying not to get swamped by the throng when he noticed Grell was having no trouble at all.  The reapers parted in front of her like water.  As Alan ran to get close behind Grell, he wondered if it was respect or fear that made the reapers move out of Grell’s way.  Or perhaps everyone just wanted to avoid the reaper’s annoying attitude.  Alan suspected it was a mixture of all three.

Finally they reached a quieter hallway and Grell stopped in front of a door. “Here we are,” the red reaper said.

“Thank you very much for your help, Mrs. Sutcliff,” he said with a bow.

Grell waved a hand. “Happy to help a youngster.  Toodles!”

As she walked away Alan opened the door and went into the room.  A group of reapers sat at typewriters, typing away determinedly.  Alan watched in awe, knowing they were writing out the To Die List.  Unconsciously, he let the door swing shut behind him and a few of the reapers looked up in annoyance at the sound.

Embarrassed, Alan hurried along the wall.  Eric wasn’t here, so he moved toward another door.  This room had several long tables and the walls were covered in charts, graphs, and diagrams of all shapes and sizes.  More reapers were consulting these and Alan recognized Eric’s shaggy blond head at once.

Eric turned when Alan reached his side.

“Hey,” he said with a smile, “Found your way here alright?”

“Mrs. Sutcliff helped me,” Alan said. “This is a… massive building.”

“Shoot,” Eric said, scratching the back of his neck. “I should have left you a map.”  He glanced at Alan and saw the student was looking around. “Bet you’re wondering why we’re here?”

Alan nodded and Eric pulled out a black binder from his bag.

“Is that…?” Alan asked and Eric nodded.

“My schedule.  I just finished and thought this would be a good opportunity.”

“For what?” Alan asked, as Eric headed toward the door.  He hurried to follow.

“For you to see what soul collecting really looks like,” said Eric, pushing open the door to the hall.

“But-,” Alan said, looking astonished. “I’m not supposed to collect a soul until the test.”

“Who said anything about you collecting a soul?” Eric asked.

“You’re going to?” Alan wondered.

Eric had considered collecting a soul to show Alan, but decided a collection at a farther distance would be more appropriate for the young reaper.

“Not me,” he said, “We’re going to find some reapers around the city to watch.”

“Are you sure this isn’t against the rules?” Alan asked, trying to keep up with Eric’s long-legged gait as he followed him to the main entrance.  “Mr. Eccles told us that student hardly ever sees a real collection until the test.”

“If you don’t experience it, how are you supposed to do it?” Eric asked.

“Imitations,” Alan said.

Eric laughed. “That’s fine and all, but,” here he turned suddenly to Alan, “Will put me in charge of your training and I’m doing it in the way I think will help you best.”  He placed a hand on his student’s shoulder. “You’re different, but there’s nothing wrong with that, Alan.”

Alan nodded, taken by Eric’s sudden passion.  Then the tall reaper grinned. “Come on, my ride’s this way.”

He kept walking and Alan followed him around the building.  Parked by the corner was a shiny orange and black sports car, and Alan’s eyes widened.

“A car!”

“Isn’t she a beauty?” Eric said, patting the hood.  He opened the driver’s side and slid in.  “Come on, hop in!”

Alan got into the passenger’s side, feeling a rush of excitement at being in such a machine.  The seats were black leather, fake, Alan assumed, and when Eric started it and stepped on the pedal, the car moved as smoothly as oil through water.

“It takes a lot of verification to get a car,” Alan said in awe, running a hand over the door.

“Took a long time for me to get this one,” Eric said, driving away from the center of the city.  “Almost didn’t get her, but I sorted out all the paperwork eventually.”

Alan looked out the window as the city receded and a new terrain appeared before them, rocky and shrouded in white mist.

“Where are we?” Alan asked as the car drove deeper into the fog.

Eric switched on the brighter headlights, which did little to penetrate the blanket of white that surrounded them.  “This is the Pathway,” he answered.  “The road from the reaper world to the mortal one.”

“The Pathway…” He had heard about it from his teachers.  They said that when a human becomes a reaper, they walk this road to reach the reaper city.  Alan knew he must have walked here, but he couldn’t remember it. The thought sent chills down his body and he shivered.

“You alright?” Eric asked.

“I’m fine,” Alan said “It’s just… unnerving.”

“A bit of mist?” Eric said, “That’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Alan leaned closer to the glass, his breath fogging up both the window and his glasses. Wiping them off, he looked out again, and jerked back with a gasp.

“I saw someone out there!”

Eric slowed the car and it rolled to a stop.  Switching off the engine, he looked out, eyes narrowed.  “Where?”

Alan pointed. “Right by those rocks.”

“Hmm,” Eric said. “I didn’t know of any new reapers coming in today.” He leaned forward and looked up.  “And we should be able to see a lantern if one of the collectors was bringing one in.”

Alan looked up too. He knew that over their heads, above the fog, was a bridge. The bridge that the reapers took to get to the humans when it was time to collect their souls.  The reapers that didn’t own cars, anyway.

“So,” he whispered, not letting his eyes leave the mist, “what was that?”

“Must have been a wraith,” Eric said, scrutinizing what they could see of the area.

“What’s a wraith?” Alan asked.  That was something he had never heard of before.  Eric started the car and they began to move forward again, slower this time.

“A wraith is a soul that gets lost,” Eric said. “It’s a rather embarrassing thing, actually.  Sometimes when a soul is being collected, parts of the soul can break off.  If the collector is being really sloppy, sometimes almost a whole soul can get away.  If it’s too far gone from the body, it will drift off on its own. Then we need to send a special retrieval squad after it.”

Alan looked back, but all he could see was the mist. No translucent faces stared at him from the white.  “Poor thing,” he said.

“It’s not that poor,” Eric said. “Someone will get it.  We’ll report it as soon as we get back. In this fog, it’s not going anywhere fast.”

“I wish we could have gotten it,” Alan said, but Eric shook his head.

“No, it’s actually rather hazardous to collect a wraith.  Since they’re not connected to a body, they can be pretty dangerous.  That’s why we have a special retrieval squad to catch them.”

“It didn’t look that scary to me,” Alan said.

“We’ve lost a few reapers to them,” Eric said, and Alan looked at him in surprise.

“They’re that dangerous?”

Eric slowed the car and turned, pulling suddenly out of the fog into a clearing lit with sunny light.  The fog around them seemed held back by an invisible barrier.  Two more vehicles were parked nearby and a small metal lift sat in the center of the clearing, leading to the bridge above.  Eric shut off the car and turned to Alan.

“The fight of a dying soul is one of the most powerful things you will ever experience, Alan.  Humans all have their time, but some refuse to believe that when it comes, it’s the correct time.

“That’s why we’re here.  Because one life can’t last forever.  It’s got to move on eventually, whether it sooner or later, it’s got to happen.  And wraiths are the epitome of that struggle to keep going, no matter how horrible drifting as nothing but a fragment may be.”

“Humans never want to let go,” Alan said, “but they have to or life would have no meaning?”

Eric smiled.  “You got it.”  He grabbed his death scythe from the back seat and opened his door. “Come on.  We have to take the bridge from here.  A car would be a surprise in this day and age in the human world.”

Alan opened his own side and stepped out.  He dropped his satchel in the seat but grabbed his notebook and pencil then hurried to join Eric in the lift.  There was a single button on the wall and Eric pressed it.  They started to rise and Alan looked around. The lift was essentially a cage and he watched through the grate in awe as they rose above the mist into a bright blue sky.

It seemed as though a thick white blanket lay underneath them as far as the eye could see, and the higher they rose the bigger it became.

“It’s huge,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Eric said from where he was leaning against the opposite wall.  “The reaper world is bigger than you think.”

Finally they rattled to a stop beside the bridge and stepped onto the gray cobblestone path.  It was a fairly large bridge, with sturdy sides.  Alan placed his hands on the edge and looked over.  The car in the clearing seemed small now and the mist almost swallowed it in swirling gulps.

“Coming?” Eric asked, waiting with his scythe propped on his shoulder a little ways down the bridge.

As they walked, the mist beneath them gradually faded, and before Alan knew it, he was looking down on the city of London.  The bridge arched over all of it, and the end came to rest somewhere near the center of the city.

“How does no one notice it?” Alan asked.

“That’s a question for the higher ups,” Eric said, stepping off the bridge onto the side street. “One I doubt we’ll ever know the answer to.”

Alan hopped down beside Eric.  A pair of doves got startled and took flight, lifting into the sunny afternoon sky.

“If we get onto the roofs, we should be able to find a few collectors.”  Eric crouched and jumped to a low roof.  Alan stuck his notebook into his inside coat pocket and leapt up next to Eric.  One of a reaper’s talents was enhanced agility, and so in this way they got to one of the taller houses in the area.  Once they could see around the neighborhood, Eric took out his book and flipped through it.

Alan walked to the edge of the roof and leaned over, looking into the street below.  It was busy, people bustling here and there, vendors hawking their wares, people chatting and children shrieking as they chased each other or a few stray chickens.  The hum of life filled Alan’s ears and his heart and he smiled.

“Found one nearby,” Eric said. “Dawson Avenue.”

Alan turned, remembering why they were here, and the smile fled from his face.  Soul collecting.  His future job.

Eric seemed to sense his gloomy mood and motioned him over.  “Come on; let’s see what actually happens, shall we?”

Alan nodded and followed Eric over the rooftops to the next street.  There, Eric stopped and pointed to a house brightly lit with lamps.  One of the windows was open and Alan saw it was a bedroom.  A middle aged woman lay on the bed, her face drawn and pale.  A younger man sat beside her, holding her hand.  His expression was sorrowful as he watched the woman sleep.

“What…?” Alan asked, but couldn’t finish the sentence.  His throat was stopping up and he coughed, trying to clear it. “Why is she…?”

“Polio,” Eric said.  He glanced at his watch.  “Any time now.”

As Alan watched, a reaper suddenly leapt onto the roof.  His scythe was in the form of hedge shears and he had his book open in his hand. Adjusting his glasses, he noticed the two reapers on the roof across the street and nodded to them.  Eric acknowledged him with a small wave.

The reaper tucked his book away and jumped down the windowsill.  Inside, the man gripped the woman’s hand, saying words Alan couldn’t hear.  His grief was obvious from his quaking shoulders, and he bowed his head.  The reaper on the sill stepped into the room and moved to the woman’s side.

Alan didn’t realize his entire body was shaking until Eric moved up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, Alan,” he said, but Alan didn’t answer, his eyes on the house. 

The reaper in the room lifted his scythe and Alan spun around, unconsciously burying his face into Eric’s coat with a gasp.

“Alan,” the reaper said, grasping his student’s arms.  Alan’s fingers gripped his coat and Eric was alarmed at the intensity of the tremors that shook the reaper’s body.  “Alan!”

Alan stepped back, releasing his mentor’s coat, his head lowered.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I just…”

Eric felt pity shoot through him. “Alan.”

The young reaper didn’t look up and Eric said a little more forcefully, “Alan, look at me.”

Alan slowly looked up, his green eyes full of shame.  “That hit you hard, didn’t it?” Eric asked.

A single nod from Alan.  Eric shook his head. “They told me you were reluctant about this, but I had no idea bringing you out here would affect you this much.”

“It’s not your fault,” Alan said quickly.  “It’s me.”

Eric sighed and looked around.  In the house, the young man sobbed over the woman’s body.  Her soul was long gone, the collector moved on to his next job.  Eric sighed again and rubbed the hair on his chin.  He glanced down at Alan, who was standing miserably, hands clasped in front of him.

“Why don’t we head back,” was all he could think to say.  “It’s getting late.”

Alan only nodded in silence and Eric lead the way back across the rooftops.  As they went, Eric glanced at Alan.  The young reaper had no tears, but the pain in his face was apparent.  Again, Eric felt surprise run though him, almost as strong as when Alan had grabbed him.  The youngster was really stressed about soul collecting.  Eric wondered if maybe he was a lost cause. What would he do?  Young reapers didn’t generally get into the other departments.  That was for older reapers who were past the soul retrieval part of their punishment.

Punishment of their deaths.

As they got onto the bridge and walked toward the lift, Eric wondered why Alan had done it.  But the strictest rule in the reaper world was not to ask.

_You are here because you threw away your life.  The retrieval of human life, their souls, is your punishment until the higher ups deem your sentence ended.  Under no circumstance whatsoever is a reaper to ask another reaper about their suicide.  If a reaper wishes to speak about it, it must be in private and spoken only to those who wish to listen._

Everyone knew the words. The first speech that was preached to you when you entered reaper academy.  To remind you why you were here in the first place.

They reached the car and Eric pulled away from the clearing, heading back into the mist.  Alan hadn’t said a single word and now was staring out the window at the fog again.  Eric wondered if he should say something, but nothing came to mind.

Just when he was going to comment about maybe staying in the reaper city would be best for tomorrow, Alan spoke.

“Mr. Eric?”

“Yes, Alan?”

“I would like to try again tomorrow, if that’s alright.”

Eric glanced over, but the young reaper hadn’t taken his eyes from the outside view.  A small burst of pride blossomed in the tall reaper.

“We’ll see, Alan.  Maybe we will.”

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan cried that night.

“Quiet,” he moaned to himself, gasping into his pillow.  He had kept the thick fabric over his head all night so his flat mates wouldn’t hear and it was making breathing difficult, even without tears.

“You haven’t even seen a collection yet,” he hissed into the cloth. “You looked away.  Why’d you do that, you bloody fool?”

He tried to get himself mad, boil away his tears in anger.  Sitting up, he swung his legs out of bed and went into the bathroom.

Leaning on the sink, he glared at his reflection, stared at his reaper-green eyes.  “It’s what you are,” he said.  “It’s who you are…”

He choked off in another sob and bent over, trying to keep quiet.  When he looked up again, his reflection seemed thinner and paler than before, cold and sickly in his undershirt.

“What would Eric think of you?” he asked the reaper in the mirror.  “He doesn’t get emotional about souls.  He does his job better than anyone.  And now he’s stuck with you,” he added bitterly.

A knock on the door made Alan jump.

“Hey, Humphries,” came the sleepy voice of one of his flat mates, “how long you gonna be in there?”

“Not long, Thom,” Alan answered quickly.  He looked back at his reflection. “Well, if we’re going out again tomorrow, you’d better get it together.”

“Al-an!”

“Coming,” Alan said, hurriedly splashing water on his face. “I’m done now.”


	4. Fight

The bell rang and Alan quickly signed his name at the top of the paper.  Standing up from his desk, he gathered his things and slung his satchel over his shoulder.  Filing behind the other students, he went to drop his papers on Mr. Eccles’ desk.

“How are you doing, Alan?” Eccles asked, taking the sheets from the student.

“Fine, sir,” Alan answered.

“Do you have a moment?” Eccles questioned.  “I would like to ask you something.”

Alan glanced at the clock.  “Yes, I have a few minutes before I have to meet Mr. Eric.”

“That’s precisely what I would like to talk to you about.”  Eccles leaned forward. “I went up to Mr. Slingby’s office yesterday, but no one was there.”

“Oh, we went out,” Alan said.  “We were never there.”

“Out?” Eccles was curious.  “Out where?”

“We…” Alan suddenly seemed hesitant. “Just around, you know, in… London.”

Eccles frowned. “Why on earth were you there?”

“Just… learning about… collecting,” Alan said.  He glanced up at the clock again. “I’d better go.   Mr. Eric will be waiting.”

“Indeed,” Eccles said as the reaper left the room. “Indeed…”

I _IIIIII_ I

“You ready?”

Alan looked over at Eric, taking a deep breath. Turning back to the garden, he nodded. “Yes.”

Eric glanced at his watch.  “Here we go.”

Alan watched as the reaper, whom he recognized as collector named Hayze, walked into the garden.  Nearby, an old man was bending over a row of deep pink roses.  The flowers were beautifully tended and Alan imagined all the times the old man had cared for them, carefully nurturing the plants so they would grow into the beauties they were.

Suddenly the man touched his chest, and bent over even more, obviously in pain.  He dropped to his knees and coughed, his body racked with tremors.  He clutched at his heart and gradually sank down to the grass and lay on his back, shaking less and less as his body weakened.

Alan bit his lip, every nerve wanted to rush down to the old man’s side, but he held back, keeping his eyes glued to the scene.

Hayze moved to the man and kneeled beside him. Then, to Alan’s astonishment, the old man reached up and gently patted the reaper on the arm.  A second later his hand dropped to his side and he became still.  Hayze took his scythe and slid it into the old man’s chest with ease.

Alan flinched and he felt Eric’s hand on his shoulder.  Hayze stood and lifted his scythe, the long strands of tapes pouring from the end.

“Cinematic record,” Alan said quietly.

“The entire life the dying person,” Eric agreed. “Ready to be reviewed.”

Hayze stepped back and lifted his scythe, studying the record.  It flowed forth, but at the end, Hayze shook his head slightly and drew back his scythe.  In one quick slashing movement, the record vanished in a flash of blue light.

Alan lowered his eyes.  That was it.  The end of the old man’s life.  One decision, one swipe of a scythe.  _You’re not good enough to keep living._

“Almost no one is qualified to be saved,” Eric said.  “One in a hundred trillion. It’s almost unheard of.”

Alan felt his mentor’s eyes watching him.  Hayze had stamped the old man’s file and now snapped his book shut and moved on, away from the garden.  Alan sat down on the rooftop, arms wrapped around his knees.

“How are you doing?” Eric asked.

“Not too good,” Alan whispered.  “Why wasn’t that old man good enough? What if he had done something worthy in the world?”

Eric sat down next to him, long legs dangling over the edge of the roof.  “If we assumed that about everyone, the world would be overrun with people.  You have to evaluate someone’s future by what you can tell about their past.”

“Hm,” squeaked Alan.  He let out a breath and lay back on the roof.  Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly.  Then he did it again, closing his eyes this time.

“Huh?” Eric looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Relaxation exercise,” Alan said. “I used to do it when I was…  Before I was a reaper.”

“Does it work?” Eric asked, watching the younger reaper’s chest rise and fall in a rhythmic pattern.

Alan opened one eye.  “Yes.”

“I think I prefer a stiff drink,” Eric said, then chuckled. “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”  He lay back next to Alan. “Let me try this. How does this work?”

“Breath in while slowly counting to three, and do the same breathing out,” answered Alan.

Eric folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes.  After a few moments he heard a soft sound and turned to find Alan smiling. “Well?  What’s this about then?”

“You sound like you’re snoring,” Alan giggled.

Eric frowned at him. “That’s how you talk to your mentor?”

 The younger reaper flushed. “Sorry, Mr. Eric!”

Eric laughed. “I’m just messing with you!”

Alan laughed and Eric chuckled even louder.  He had never imagined the young reaper’s laugh could be so light and carefree.  It was refreshing and, quite frankly, a beautiful sound.  Like chimes in the wind.

After they had settled a bit, Alan spoke.  “The old man… He saw the reaper.”

Eric folded an arm behind his head.  “Sometimes that happens when a human is accepting of death.”

Alan turned in confusion. “Accepting of death??”

Eric nodded. “Once in a while, a human’s understanding that death comes to all is so strong, that when the time comes, their soul doesn’t fight all, but rather welcomes a reaper’s scythe.”

“I didn’t know there were humans like that,” Alan mused.

“They’re few and far between,” Eric said, “but they’re out there.”

Alan sat up suddenly. “That’s funny.”

“What is?” Eric asked, lifting his head.

“The flowers he was tending…” Alan stood and looked down into the garden.  “They’re dark pink roses.”

“And that means something?” Eric rose to his feet.  “Something specific?”

“In the language of the flowers,” Alan said softly, “roses of that color mean appreciation, or gratitude.”

Eric gazed down at the bed of flowers and the blossoms that waved gently in the wind.  They seemed to wave at him.

_Appreciation… Thank you, dear reaper.   Thank you for sending me on my way… Bless you, sir…_

Eric saw the old man’s hand fall again and he bowed his head.  _‘And now the flowers will wilt and die…  Discarded because their caregiver has gone.  What is their purpose now?’_

“Mr. Eric?”

Eric looked up to see Alan watching him.  He flashed a smile.  “Well!  It’s getting rather late, isn’t it?  And we skipped lunch!”

Alan nodded, the smile coming back to his face.  Eric jerked his head in the general direction of the bridge.

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The two reapers set off across the rooftops, and the roses in the garden bowed in the wind over the old man’s body, like mourners dressed in too bright a color.

I _IIIIII_ I

“Where have you been?” asked Thom Danys, looking up from the table as Alan entered the flat.

Alan dumped his satchel on the counter and went to the kitchen sink. “I was out with Mr. Slingby.”

“Again?” asked his other roommate, Henry Took.  He tossed a card down on the table and Thom picked it up.  “Classes ended three hours ago.”

“We had to blow up the car tires,” Alan said, opening cabinets.  “And we ate dinner together.”

Thom raised an eyebrow at Henry. “Oh?”

Alan took out a cup and tsked when he saw that the milk was in the cereal cabinet.  “Yes.  A Chinese place. It was actually really nice.  We-.”

“Did you kiss?”

Alan looked around the cabinet door at Henry. “No, we didn’t.  Why would you ever ask that?”

“Seems like you’re spending a lot of time with Mr. Slingby,” Thom said, tipping his chair back.

“You met the dude two months ago and he’s all you talk about,” said Henry. “’Mr. Slingby did this’, “Mr. Slingby did that’, ‘if I was _gay_ I’d marry Mr. Slingby’.”

“Shut up,” Alan said, his face becoming red.

“You’d marry him in a second,” Henry said. “Lover boy.”

“Well, that’s a bit much,” Thom said, frowning at the blond. “But you are a bit of a teacher’s pet. The rest of us have to do stuff like schoolwork.”

“I am doing work!” Alan said.  “Mr. Slingby’s my mentor!”

Tom dropped his chair back to the floor with a thump.  “You know, Humphries, maybe so, but it ain’t like any work we’re doing.”

“I’m doing what Mr. Slingby thinks is right for me,” Alan said.

“So you don’t cry at night anymore?” Henry asked.

Alan closed the cabinet door. “Quiet, Henry.”

Thom got to his feet.  “You don’t have much besides your tears, Humphries.”

“Screw you, Thom,” muttered Alan, pouring milk into the glass.

“Not him,” Henry piped up, “but you could ask if Mr. Slingby would do it with you.”

Alan wasn’t sure how the carton left his hand, but suddenly there was milk splashed everywhere and his fist was flying into Henry’s face.  The reaper cried out as Alan shoved him back, knocking into the table and toppling his chair backward.  The smaller reaper landed on top of Henry and the blond yelled and threw punches as best he could.

“Hey!” Thom shouted, rushing forward.  He yanked Alan off of Henry, trying to pin down his arms.  Alan struggled, but his thin frame wasn’t much of a match for Thom’s strength.  Henry shoved aside the chair and pushed himself up, wiping a trickle of blood from his nose.  More blood ran from a cut on his brow.

“You’re so paying for that!” Henry said, gripping the chair.  He lashed out and hit Alan hard in the stomach with the broken seat, making the smaller reaper double over, hacking and gasping for breath.

“Hold him, Thom,” Henry said, clenching his fist.  “I’m going to break his glasses!”

“Hey, now!” Thom cried, wrapping one arm around Alan, who was still struggling and coughing.  He held out the other to block Henry.  “That’s enough!”

“Come on, man,” Henry said, but dropped his fists.

“You didn’t have to pick on him that much,” Thom scolded.

Alan shoved Thom’s arm away and staggered to lean against the counter.  Tears were streaming from his eyes as blood ran from his nose and left temple.

“Nothing’s broken, right?” Thom asked, but Alan just glared.

“Leave me alone,” he choked out, and fled the flat, leaving the two other students standing in the disordered, milk splattered kitchen.

I _IIIIII_ I

The sky was an exceptionally dark clear blue that day as Eric walked to work.  He whistled as he strolled, and only caught himself at it when a coworker asked him what song it was.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

_‘I haven’t whistled in years…’_

The thought stayed with him as he entered the Dispatch Building, dropped in at the Administrative Department to pick up his collection list for the day, and took the lift up to his office.

 _‘It’s Alan,’_ he realized.  _‘That reaper’s doing strange things to me.’’_

In fact, last night when he had reached for his cigarette pack out of habit and lit a roll, he had hardly taken two drags on it when he realized it didn’t do much to change his mood.  He didn’t need a distraction from his lonely days and nights because his days weren’t lonely anymore.  He had an eager student ready and waiting for him afternoon, enthusiastic for the day’s lesson.  Eric was happy for the quality time they spent together during and after the lessons.  He was thinking of Alan less as a student and more as a friend with each passing day.

And so he had an uncommon spring in his step as he walked, and even threw a cheerful ‘hello’ wave to Grell in the hallway before entering his office.

His first reaction upon seeing Alan sprawled out on his couch was surprise, but that feeling immediately turned to worry when he saw the bedraggled appearance of the younger reaper.  He dumped his scythe and others things on the desk and crouched next to the sofa.

“Hey, Alan,” he whispered, his eyes taking in the blood and bruises. “Alan,” he repeated, louder.  “Wake up!”

Alan groaned and his eyelids fluttered.  “Eric…?”

“Yes,” Eric nodded. “What happened?”

“Argument…” Alan lifted his head. “Didn’t know... Your office…  Sorry…”

“No, believe me, it’s fine.” Eric felt slight panic as Alan struggled to string sentences together.  “It looks pretty bad.  We should get you to the infirmary.”

“I’m fine,” Alan said.  Eric kept a steadying hand on him as he slowly sat up, wincing.

“I don’t think so,” Eric said, looking into his face.  “Does anything hurt bad?”

“Kind of, my stomach…” Alan bent over, coughing, and when Eric pulled his hand away it was wet with blood. “I can’t…”  The reaper’s eyes rolled back and Eric slung Alan’s arm over his shoulder.

“Alright, here we go,” he said, trying not to let the panic overtake him as he lifted Alan into his arms and headed for the door.  “You’re going to the infirmary as fast as I can get you there.”

Eric ran for the lift, Alan so light in his arms it was almost like carrying nothing at all.  At the end of the hall, he kicked the down button and waited, impatience threatening to overcome him.  When the doors finally opened, he shoved past the reaper that was exiting and hit the ground level button.

Eric let out a breath of relief when the main hall was empty except for Will T. Spears, who looked up when Eric thundered past.

“Slingby!” Will called, but Eric didn’t stop, only calling, “Infirmary!” as he rushed for the door.  He had barely made it outside when Will was in front of him, pointing to the black car that sat directly in front of the building.

“My vehicle is closer,” he said, and Eric nodded.

He got into the backseat, lying Alan down, the young reaper’s head resting in his lap.  Will slid into the driver’s seat and peeled away from the curb, racing down the street.

“What happened?”

“I’m not a sure,” Eric said. “He said something about an argument.”

Will sighed. “Young reapers. No self-control.”

Eric didn’t reply.  He looked down at Alan’s still face and gently wiped away the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth.  His heart was beating without a rhythm and he was already opening the door before Will had even fully stopped the car in the infirmary entrance.

Pushing through the doors, the nurse at the desk jumped up at once and pressed a button.  “Doctor to emergency immediately!” she said, rushing around the desk. “Follow me, sir,” she said, leading Eric down a hall.

A few minutes later Eric was pacing in front of an emergency ward door.  The nurse had insisted he wait outside and when the doctor arrived, he had finally managed to hustle Eric out the door.  Now the reaper slapped his pockets until he found his cigarettes and matches. Lighting one, he ground the end to a pulp within a minute.  Coughing slightly, he spit out he pieces into a trashcan.

“I doubt they’d appreciate you doing that in here,” said Will, entering the waiting room.

“Ugh,” Eric grunted, keeping up his pacing.

“I suppose you’ll want to stay here for as long as it takes?” Will asked.

Eric knew it wasn’t really a question and didn’t answer.  Will adjusted his glasses.  “I’ll find someone to take your assignments. Eric.”

Eric stopped moving and looked over at the reaper.  Will looked coldly back. “When he wakes up I want to know exactly how this happened.”

Eric nodded. “So do I.”

Will turned toward the door. “And Slingby.”

“Yes, Mr. Spears?” Eric said.

“When and if you find out.” Will glanced back out of the corner of his eye.  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Eric watched Will go and then slumped down into a chair.  Running a hand through his hair, he tipped his head back at stared up at the blank white ceiling.  Not a half an hour ago he had felt good enough to whistle.  Now he had a cigarette in his hand and a pit in his stomach.

“Who the hell did this?” he muttered.

He didn’t know when it happened, but he must have dropped off for a minute or two at some point, because he woke up to the nurse gently touching his shoulder.

“How is he?”  The words came out of his mouth even before he was completely conscious.

“The doctor would like to talk to you about that,” answered the nurse.


	5. Realization

Alan opened his eyes to a white ceiling.  His heart jumped in alarm and he turned to the much more welcome sight of Eric sitting beside him.  The reaper was blurry and Alan realized his glasses had been removed.

“What happened?” he asked, and Eric looked up.

“You’re awake!”

Alan looked around. “The infirmary?”

“You were in pretty bad shape,” Eric said. “Still are, but the doc says you’ll be fine.”

“How’d I get here?”

“After you passed out in my office, I carried you down and Will offered up his car as transport.”  Eric frowned. “You sure you feel well enough to talk?”

Alan nodded. “I feel better.”

“They said you had a ruptured stomach blood lining or something,” Eric said.  “Had to patch it up.”

Alan moved his hand to his stomach and felt the line of stitches that marred the smooth skin. The area was sore, and hot to the touch.  He sighed and sank farther into the pillow.  Eric leaned forward and rested his arms on the bed.

“Care to tell me what this is all about?”

Alan flushed, remembering the situation at the flat. “My roommates were being rude.”

“I’d say rude is an understatement,” Eric said, and Alan turned his head away.  “Hey, come on,” Eric said softly. “Tell me about it.”

Alan kept his face turned away.  “Thom was mad about you and the schoolwork.  You know, me being a teacher’s favorite, getting out of classes and stuff.”

“I can relate to that,” Eric said. “Not true, and hardly a reason to get into a brawl as bad as this.”

“But Henry…” Alan swallowed.  “I don’t think he even cared about the schoolwork.  He just wanted someone to pick on.”

“A bully, huh?” Eric asked, and Alan nodded.

“We never got along, but I’ve never seen him this mean.  He called me…” Alan struggled to get the words out.  “He said I was gay, like it was a bad thing, and said the reason I spent time with you was because I wanted to marry you.”

Eric was stone silent, letting Alan talk it out, but his hand had clenched into a fist.

“I was getting mad, so I said to Thom, ‘screw you’.” Alan gulped.  “I didn’t want to fight or anything but then Henry said, he said….”

Eric rested his hand on Alan’s arm. “What did he say?” the reaper asked quietly.

Alan turned and looked at Eric. “He told me I should go screw _you_!”

At that, the younger reaper’s tears welled over and his buried his face in his hands, the sobs making the wound in his stomach twinge painfully.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Eric said, though he wasn’t feeling alright himself.  His anger level was rising to dangerous heights.  He reached out and took Alan’s shoulders in his hands.  “It’s okay.”

Alan shook his head. “It’s not,” he said through his tears.  “They insulted you!  They can’t do that!”

With a jolt, Eric realized that Alan wasn’t furious at the way _he_ had been treated by his roommates, but by the way they had spoken about _his mentor_.  An overwhelming feeling of affection for Alan washed over Eric and he got up to sit on the edge of the bed.  Gathering Alan up in his arms, he bundled him close.  Alan rested his head on the tall reaper’s chest and let his sobs gradually fade into hiccups.  After a while, Eric leaned back.

“Better?”

“Better,” Alan nodded, sniffling. Eric took a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out. “Here you go.” Alan took it with a muffled thank you, and wiped his eyes and nose.

Just then the nurse stuck her head in. “It would be best if Mr. Humphries got some rest.”

Eric got up from the bed and Alan leaned back into the pillows.  Eric tucked the blanket around him as the nurse took the young reaper’s wrist and checked his pulse.

“I’ll be back soon,” Eric promised and Alan nodded.

Once he was outside the room, Eric’s anger returned.  Anyone who knew him would have a warned about the look in his eye.  It wasn’t one the reaper had usually.  Most of the time he was pretty cool, tucking his anger away under sarcasm or a scornful chuckle, but once in a while, if something hit him in the right spot…

_“When and if you find out. Don’t do anything stupid.”_

Eric was pretty sure going to Alan’s flat was under the stupid part Will had been talking about.  But he didn’t really care.

Fifteen minutes later he was ascending the stairs to room 444.  Finding the door locked, he kicked it open to find two reapers sitting at a table playing cards.  To Eric’s eyes, they were plenty old, probably about to take their final test any day now.

“Mr. Slingby,” one of them said, jumping to his feet with a bow.  He looked Indian, but his accent was mostly British.  “W-what are you doing here?”

Eric assumed this one was Thom.  He didn’t look like a bad fellow.

“If you’re looking for Alan, he went off last night and never came back.”

Eric turned as the second reaper spoke. This one hadn’t risen from his seat.  Henry.  Eric’s rage flared.

“I know exactly where Alan is,” the reaper said, keeping his voice calm.  “He’s in the infirmary.”

“The infirmary?” Thom’s voice was full of shock. “W-we-.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Henry asked, his tone more curious than horrified.

Eric took a step closer to the student. “Busted up inside,” he answered. “I had to take him there this morning after I found him bleeding all over my couch.”

“Oh my god,” Thom said.  He rounded on Henry. “What the hell, man?”

“I didn’t know I’d hit him that hard,” Henry shrugged.

At that, Eric slammed him fist down on the table, making the cards jump.  “You mean you didn’t care if you hit him that hard,” the reaper growled.

“Well, I-.”

Eric kicked out and the chair Henry was sitting on slid out from under him, sending the reaper to the floor.  Eric leaned over him, resting a hand on the table, and saw Henry’s cool manner crack.  “You know, I don’t think Alan would have had injuries that bad from a weak punch that would come from your fist.”

Henry tried to move back, but Eric picked up the chair and slammed it down behind him.  “Answer me.”

“Alright!” Henry said, sweat breaking out on his brow.  “I hit him with a chair.”

“A chair.”  Eric knelt in front of Henry.  Even now he loomed over the student.  “Do you think that maybe that could have caused lasting damage?”

Henry didn’t take his eyes from Eric. “Thom, help me out here!”

Thom was stock still, frozen against the counter. “Y-you know how small Alan is. He’s not exactly the strongest reaper…”

“Precisely,” Eric said, rising to his feet. He pulled his death scythe from his back and tapped in on the floor.  “You know what they say.  Actions speak louder than words.”

Henry’s resolve had dissolved by now and only a squeak escaped his lips.

“So I think this conversation is over,” Eric said.

At that moment a long metal rod shot out and stabbed in the floor between Eric and Henry.  Both looked over to see Will standing in the door.  He withdrew his pruner styled death scythe and adjusted his glasses. “That’s enough Mr. Slingby.”

Eric propped his scythe up on his shoulder and Henry flinched as the saw’s teeth whistled past his ear.  “Just giving these boys a talking to, Mr. Spears.”

“I understand,” Will said. “But I’ll take it from here.”

His scythe shot out again and clamped onto the back of Henry’s shirt, dragging him toward the door.  Will sent an ice cold glance at Thom.  “You too.”

Still keeping a grip on Henry and prodding Thom out the door, Will led them into the hall.  “This incident will be on your record, Slingby.”

“I wouldn’t have harmed them,” Eric called and Will paused in the doorway.

“I know,” the reaper said.

“Oh?” said Eric.

Will didn’t look back. “That is why I didn’t step in any sooner than I did.”

I _IIIIII_ I

When Alan was told the length of time he would have to stay in the infirmary, he was shocked and dismayed.

“I’ll never be ready for my test!” he said. “I still have so much work.”

“If you can’t go to school, we’ll have to bring the school to you,” Eric said, and the next day he came in, arms loaded with books.

“We’ve explored the soul collecting environment,” the tall reaper said, pulling the infirmary bed desk over Alan’s lap, “but there’s the other side of retrieval you’ve got to learn.”

“What’s that?” Alan asked, as Eric dropped the folders in front of him.

“Take a guess,” Eric said, picking up a pencil.

Alan stared grimly at the stack before him. “Paperwork.”

Eric nodded. “You got it.  The never ending war against paperwork.”

Alan reached for the first book.  “Let’s do it.”

I _IIIIII_ I

Some days later found the sick room dimly lit, papers scattered on the floor at bed, and books stacked on all surfaces.

Alan was sleeping on his side, a pencil behind his ear, another held loosely in his fingers with papers crumpled under his pillow.  Eric sat in a chair nearby; tie undone, working quietly on some files.  Most of them were overdue, mainly because he had been focusing solely on Alan’s recovery and schoolwork.

 _‘In fact,’_ Eric thought, signing his name at the bottom of a page, _‘I haven’t even collected a soul for quite a while.’_

He knew some of the other reapers had taken on his workload, cutting his already minimal teacher’s collection time down to zero.  Sitting back, Eric twirled a pencil between his fingers and glanced over at Alan.  The reaper was recovering perfectly, the doctor had assured, and nothing else had ever relieved Eric more in his life….

It was apparent he was feeling better when Alan began asking when they would be able to go out again.  At first he was quiet and reserved, and had usually been asleep when Eric came to visit.  But after a while his restlessness was more outward. That was when Eric had reintroduced lessons into the schedule and spent more time with him, trying to relive his boredom.

“I’ve been stuck in here,” Alan said.  “What if that has made me... weak again?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Eric reassured him.  “You’ll be fine.  And you were never weak, alright?”

Alan had smiled. “Alright.  It’s just really boring here.”

“You calling me boring?” Eric asked, with a mock frown.  “Don’t worry; you’ll be out of here soon.”

Alan turned his attention to the notebook in his hand and scribbled something on the paper.  Eric leaned back in his chair.  “What do you do when I’m not here?”

“Draw, mostly,” Alan answered, concentrating on what he was working on. “I read.  It’s quiet.”

Eric heard the underlying meaning in Alan’s words.  There was no one else that came to visit.  No one else cared enough to check in on the young reaper.  Eric looked for the words to fill the painful gaps.

“Mr. Eccles came a few times,” he said.

Alan nodded, the pencil scratching on the paper. “Yes.  Never when you were around.”

“At least someone took my place,” Eric said, standing and stretching his arms over his head. “Filled the silence a bit, didn’t he?”

“Hmm,” Alan answered vaguely.  “The nurse said Thom came to apologize.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

Alan shook his head and finally turned to look at Eric.  “Here.” He held out his notebook and Eric took it.  On the paper was a cup-shaped flower that Eric recognized as a daffodil.  Over the time he had come to know Alan, he had found the reaper was bestowed with a brilliant knowledge of flowers and their colors, shapes, sizes, and meanings.

“What does a does a daffodil mean in the language of flowers?” Eric asked.

“I can’t remember exactly,” Alan said vaguely, looking at the pencil between his fingers. “Something about sunshine and smiles.”

“Seems pretty cheery,” Eric said, admiring the softly penciled lines that spread over the paper, creating the gentle image.  He handed the book back.  “Nice.”

Alan took the drawing and looked down at it.  “Yes.  A daffodil is always the brightest when the sun is shining on it.  It’s happy….”

Now, Eric looked over at Alan’s sleeping form and wondered if the reaper was happy.  He certainly didn’t carry the same sad, dejected air he had when they had first met.

 _‘Is that because of me?’_   Eric wondered suddenly.  The thought surprised him and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pondering.

“Funny,” he muttered out loud. “I don’t think I’ve ever caused anyone happiness before…”

Alan sighed in his sleep and shifted, causing the pencil to fall from his fingers.  Eric caught it before it hit the floor and set it on the table beside Alan’s notebook.  The tall reaper’s eyes lingered on the book and after a moment, he picked it up.  For a moment he wondered if Alan would mind if he looked through it.  Glancing at the sleeping reaper again, Eric opened to the first page.

On the inside cover Alan had written his name in neat cursive, and the first page displayed a single sunflower.  It was softly penciled and colored with different hues of yellow and gold that seemed to shine, even in the dim room.  Beside the picture were the words, _Dwarf Sunflower; Adoration_.

As Eric turned the pages, flowers of all kinds blossomed from the white sheets.  Each one had its name neatly penciled beside it, along with the meaning.

_Golden-Rod; Caution, Encouragement_

_Yellow Jasmine; Modesty, Grace, Elegance_

_Lily; Majesty and Honor, Purity of Heart_

Eric turned another page and suddenly he was looking at his own face.  It was a remarkable likeness of him in the driver’s seat of his car, leaning back with one hand on the wheel and a smile on his face.  It was colored with watercolor, like most of the drawings, and there was a bit of lettering underneath it.

_Driving to observe a collection. My mentor, Eric Slingby._

As Eric continued through the book, the drawings of flowers were scattered between more depictions of him.  Sitting at his desk, eating lunch, standing on a rooftop with the London skyline behind him.  Each was titled simply, followed by the same words; _My mentor, Eric Slingby_.

As Eric neared the middle of the book he reached a portrait drawing of himself.  The Eric on the page was laughing, his green eyes sparkling.  Eric’s heart jumped.  This was how Alan saw him?  So happy and carefree?

Eric touched the drawing.  “It’s only since I met you, Alan,” he said softly.  His eyes went to the title, well aware of the tears as he read the three words.

_My friend Eric._

A teardrop fell to the paper and Eric quickly wiped it off.  Turning the page, the daffodil glowed off the paper.

_White Daffodil; The Sun Shines When I’m with You._

Eric sat and looked at the delicate flower for a long time.  When he finally closed the book and put it back on the table, it was with a feeling he had never experienced.  A sense of friendship deeper than anything he had ever felt before.  Rising to his feet, he leaned over Alan and whispered quietly, “Thank you.”

Then he picked up his files and left the room, making sure to leave the lights dimly lit.  As he walked the quiet hall, he realized more tears were filling his eyes.  Looking around, he quickly took a side door and went out onto the walk in the back of the building.  Leaning against the wall, he took off his glasses and dragged the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Damn,” he muttered. “I don’t cry.”

He rested the back of his head against the wall and looked down to where he knew the window to Alan’s room was.  “It’s you,” he sighed.  “You’ve changed me so much, and all for the better.”

“Slingby?”

Eric jerked forward, jamming his glasses back on and looking around.  He found the person who had spoken standing a few yards down the walk.

“Eccles,” Eric said with a sigh.

“Everything alright?” Eccles asked, moving forward.

Eric waved a hand. “Everything’s great.  But what are you doing here so late at night?  Alan’s asleep now and probably won’t wake up until morning.” 

“I know that,” Eccles said. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Eric folded the files in his hand and tucked them into his pocket.  “What about?”

Eccles hesitated, adjusting his glasses. “Well, I’m just going to get to the point.  Honestly, I’m not sure about your teaching methods.”

“Really,” Eric said, immediately on the defensive.  He folded his arms. “And what exactly aren’t you sure about?”

“Well, I…” Eccles looked at Eric. “Alright, everything.  Anything. I’m not sure what you’re even doing with Alan. You have no curriculum with the other teachers; you apparently don’t plan things within the academy hours or have any documents in the school’s files.  I can’t find anything that tells me what you are doing.”

“I don’t find that a problem at all,” Eric said. “I don’t plan within the academy; I work with Alan on my own hours. It’s rather like I’m a private school all by myself.”

“To be quite frank, that is what bothers me,” Eccles pressed.  “Does Mr. Spears even know what you are up to?”

“You make it sound like I’m a criminal,” Eric said. “If Mr. Spears wanted to know ‘what I am up to’, I am sure he would have asked.  He asks only for enough to assure that Alan is progressing at the correct rate.  I can only assume he puts enough faith in me to believe I can properly train Alan to be a reaper, and doesn’t see the need to get involved.”

“And here we reach the heart of the issue,” Eccles said, folding his hand behind his back. “Alan.  I am most concerned about the methods you are using to teach him. You are rarely in your office, I can’t find you anywhere on the academy grounds, and Alan won’t speak a word of what he does with you to me.”

“I think he’s got the right idea,” Eric said. “We don’t need anyone poking their noses into our work.”

“Mr. Slingby,” Eccles said, the first bit of vehemence since he arrived entering his tone. “I am familiar with your work.  You are considered to be the best Retrievals Reaper currently working here, or anywhere else in the world, for that matter.  But I know what sort of man you are.  You do not have a clean past, not even in the reaper world.   And what you did to those students, regardless of their actions towards Alan…  A mentor has a huge impact on a student, and it is in that way that I am concerned about Alan!”

When Eccles finished, he took a step back, breathing heavily and glaring at Eric.  Eric didn’t move for a second, and when he did, Eccles jumped, but Eric only straightened his glasses.

“Mr. Eccles…” the tall reaper said slowly, looking at the ground.  His glasses reflected the light coming from the building, making it impossible to see his eyes. “Mr. Eccles, you place a lot of doubt on me, and maybe some of it is true.  But…” Eric looked up, his green eyes fierce. “Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that you are the only one who cares for Alan.  Because I can assure you; you are not.”

Eccles didn’t say anything, his face stony, and Eric turned away.  He went back into the building, slamming the door behind him, leaving Eccles standing alone in the dim alley.


	6. Home

Alan woke one morning to find Eric picking up all the books and packing them into bags.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up and reaching for his glasses.

Eric looked up. “Ah, good, you’re awake.  We’re heading out!”

“Really?” Alan put on his glasses and smiled. “Finally?”

“Finally,” Eric agreed.  He nodded at the monitor beside the bed. “They unhooked you from that contraption this morning.”  Tossing a few more books in, Eric grabbed another bag and started putting paper and pencils into it.  “Soon as we sign a few things, we’re out of here.”

Alan pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed. “Let me help you with that,” he said, but Eric held out a hand.

“Not yet,” the reaper said. “You’re just leaving the infirmary; you haven’t been cleared for active duty quite yet.”

Alan sighed and sat back on the bed.  “And when will I be?”

“A couple of days or so,” Eric said.  “I’ve gathered up all of your things.  They’re already in the car.”  He pointed to a pile of clothing at the end of the bed. “Left you something to wear.  I’ll take this stuff out and be right back.”

He picked up the bags, slinging the two book filled ones over his shoulders, and went to the door, only to stop when he realized he hadn’t left any hands free.  Alan smiled and slid off the bed, going to the door and opening it.  Eric grinned at him. “Thanks.  I must have left my brain on the shelf today.”

“Must be a pretty small shelf,” Alan said, then blushed.  _‘What did I just say?’_

But Eric laughed. “I’m rubbing off on you!  Maybe you’d better stay at the infirmary and get that fixed.”  Heading down the hall he called back, “Once you’re changed, we’re out of here!”

“Okay,” Alan replied.  He watched Eric walk down the hall and when the tall reaper turned the corner, Alan pressed his hand to his mouth and let a small laugh escape. He leaned against the doorframe and tipped his head back against the wood.  Closing his eyes, he thought back to his times in school when he would be left out and frowned at.

_“That Alan Humphries will be a failure.  None of us can do a thing with him.”_

The quiet words, and the not so quiet ones, had pierced him like needles and causing him to hunch his shoulders and find a lonely place to keep himself out of the way.

 _‘I’m a failure,’_ he had thought.  _‘No one can change that.  I’ll never be able to be a reaper.  Never.’_

And getting a personal mentor was the worst fate he could think of.

_“So, Alan, why are you here?”_

_“I thought Mr. Spears would have told you-.”_

_“He did.  I just want to know why_ you _think you’re here.”_

Alan smiled to himself.  _‘Meeting Eric is the best thing that has ever happened to me.’_

He thought of Eric, and as he remembered everything his mentor had done, tears came to his eyes and he smiled.

“It’s you,” he sighed.  “You’ve changed me so much, and all for the better.”

“Hey, you alright?”

Alan jumped, his eyes flying open to see Eric coming down the hall toward him.  He pushed himself forward and winced, touching his stomach.  “Ah!  Yes, I’m fine.”

“You’ve been standing here the whole time?” Eric asked, and Alan saw the concern in his eyes.

“I was just thinking,” he answered.  “Sorry, I’ll get changed now.”

Eric nodded and Alan drew back into the room, closing the door.  Going to the bed, he unbuttoned his pajama shirt and slipped it off easily, though removing his trousers proved to be bit more difficult, and the pain in his middle increased.

The clothes Eric had left were his usual student uniform of a white collared shirt, black trousers and coat. Putting on the shirt, his hands hesitated over the buttons as his eyes fell on the trousers.

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric leaned against the wall in the hallway, absentmindedly looking out the window.  He could see the Dispatch Building, rising above the rest.  The top was almost hidden in a fog of low clouds and Eric tried to pick out his office window.

“Mr. Slingby?”

Eric turned to see a nurse coming down the hall with a clipboard.

“Yes?”

“As Mr. Humphries’ mentor, I need your signature on a few things,” the nurse said, holding out the clipboard.  “There are some things in there about committing to his recovery.  If you would like to read it and decide what you think you can fit into your schedule, I would be happy to go over that with you.”

Eric took the clipboard and the pencil she handed him. “No need for that,” he said. “I’m committing myself fully to his recovery.  I’ll be taking care for anything he needs.”

“Very well,” the nurse said. “Sign at the bottom of all four pages.”

Eric did and handed the files back to her.  She nodded her thanks and walked off down the hall.

“Mr. Eric?”

The voice came from behind him and Eric turned to find Alan peering out from behind the infirmary room door.  “What is it?”

“I, well…” Alan hesitated, and Eric saw his normally pale face was flushed.

“Come on; what’s the matter?” Eric asked.

“I’m having trouble with my trousers,” Alan said, speaking quickly and quietly.  “I can’t bend over enough without hurting my stomach and so… I need help…”

“Oh.”  Eric looked around.  “I think maybe a nurse could…”  The nurse was gone, vanished with her clipboard, and the reaper suddenly felt very hot.  But there was no use to standing around awkwardly.

“I’ll help you,” he said, and Alan blushed even redder, but nodded and stepped back from the door.  He went and sat on the bed and Eric picked up the pair of trousers. As he kneeled down in front of Alan, he realized his face was hot and probably as red as a tomato.

 _‘I don’t get embarrassed!’_ he thought.  Glancing up at Alan, he saw the reaper’s face was turned away and, if it was possible, even redder than his own.  Eric couldn’t help but think of how awkwardly cute Alan looked, blushing like a rose.  With that thought, Eric’s embarrassment dissipated. He was simply helping Alan out like he had promised he would.

“Alright,” he said, holding out the trousers. “Legs in.”

Alan blushed even more at that, but did as Eric said.  He slipped his feet into the trousers and Eric pulled them up around his slender legs.  Eric had never noticed just how slim Alan was until this moment, bunching the fabric up around the reaper’s thin ankles.

“Stand up,” Eric instructed, and Alan did, resting his hand on the tall reaper’s shoulder for balance.  A moment later, Eric fastened the last button and then helped Alan get his shoes on.  When he finished doing up the laces, he unconsciously reached for Alan’s shirt.

“I’ve got it,” the reaper said, and Eric drew his hand back with a start.

“Right,” he said, getting to his feet.  The awkward feeling had returned and he moved toward the door.  “I’ll wait in the hall then...”

As soon as Eric was gone, Alan sighed deeply.  He hoped he hadn’t caused Eric too much embarrassment.  As he buttoned up his shirt, he saw Eric kneeling in front of him, reaching up to continue helping him without a second thought.  Alan rubbed a button between his fingers for a moment, then quickly did up the rest and picked up his coat.  Looking around the room, he nodded in satisfaction. He would be happy if he never had to visit this place again.

“I’m ready,” he said, entering the hall and closing the door behind him. 

“Great,” Eric said, pushing away from the wall.  Alan fell into step beside Eric’s long strides and as they left the infirmary, a soft breath escaped both of their lips, a quiet whisper of relief.

I _IIIIII_ I

“So, where are we headed?” Eric asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.  Alan carefully eased himself down into his seat and shut the door.

“Eh?” he asked, looking over at Eric.

Eric started up the engine and pulled out of the small lot.  “Am I taking you back to your flat?”

Alan suddenly remembered where he was going and winced. “Well, I don’t know…”

“The real question is, do you want to go back there?”  Eric looked over and Alan shook his head.  The tall reaper nodded. “Right.  That’s what I thought.”

“I suppose I could find another place,” Alan said, looking out the window.  “But they cost money.  The flat I was at was funded by the academy, and until I become a full-fledged reaper, I don’t have much of an income at all…”

Alan frowned at the window.  His heart fluttered and his stomach tightened at the thought of going back to the flat.  _‘What else is there to do?’_ he wondered, watching the buildings going by.  _‘I’ll have to suffer through it.  Henry won’t bother me again…’_

“Looks like you don’t have many choices.”

Eric’s voice cut into Alan’s thoughts and the reaper saw they were turning away from the academy, heading toward the buildings nearer to the Dispatch Building.  Alan sat forward and watched as they came to a series of nicer structures, no doubt holding the residence of the reapers that held higher up positions in the Society.

“Where are we going?” Alan asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Eric flicked the blinker and pulled in front of one of the buildings.  “My house,” he said, looking over at Alan.  “Well, I get the flat on the second floor.  First floor belongs to Hayze.  You know him.”

Alan nodded as Eric opened his door and got out of the car.  Alan followed his lead, his mind whirling as he did so.  Eric hadn’t said anything specifically, but…  Should he say something?  Eric was walking up to the gate, and Alan decided to keep quiet.

Eric led the way up the walk to the door, pushing through the metal gate. It was taller than Alan, but didn’t rise much above Eric’s head.  The small yard beyond was mostly bare, and the tree growing in the corner looked like it was struggling to survive.  Eric reached the door and went in, entering the narrow hall beyond.  A door to the ground floor flat sat to the left and flight of steps led up to the second level.

As he followed Eric up, Alan felt his stomach twinge and he paused, wincing.  Eric noticed his hesitation and started back, concerned, but Alan smiled and waved him on.

“I’m alright,” he said, going up the last few steps to the landing.  “So… this is your place?”

“All five rooms,” Eric said, putting his key in the lock. “And that’s not counting the main bathroom or the one in my bedroom.”  He opened the door and Alan found himself in a small hallway, a line of pegs on the wall and a clutter of shoes underneath a bench.  Eric took off his coat and hung it up, then turned and held out his hand for Alan’s.

Alan realized he was still holding his coat; he had never even put it on.  He handed it over and Eric hung it next to his own.

“I’m going to apologize in advance for all the messes,” Eric said, leaving the hall and going into the kitchen.  “I never really had a reason to keep this place organized.  It’s gotten a bit jumbled.”

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Alan thought that ‘jumbled’ was too small a word for the chaotic disarray of the room.  There were cobwebs in the corners, half eaten prepackaged lunches molding on the countertops, and whiskey bottles on the kitchen island.  The small kitchen table in the corner was no better and the stovetop was so dusty Alan wondered in which era it had last been used.

Eric picked up the trash bin and started swiping bottles off the counters, looking mortified.  “Right. Anyway, this is the kitchen…”  He tossed the bin back into the corner and wiped his hands on his trousers.  “I don’t have much for food…”  He opened the refrigerator door and quickly closed it again, but not before the small had reached Alan’s nose.  “I… need to clean that out.”

A small smile started to twitch at Alan’s mouth, but he kept it carefully under control as Eric waved him across the hall to the sitting room.  It was dim inside and Eric went over to the window as Alan looked around.

 _‘It could be cozy,’_ he thought, touching the arm of the couch.  _‘A couch, a chair, a nice little coffee table…  If I could just clean up the cigarette butts, get some pictures on the walls...’_

Eric was pulling back the hanging drapes, coughing as the dust flew through the air.  Sunlight illuminated the room and Alan put his hands on his hips, thinking.  A couch against the wall facing the window, an armchair, a small sofa, an unused fireplace in the corner… 

 _‘Yes…  The furniture would have to be replaced, though that table is nice.’_ He walked over to the coffee table and moved a bottle and a plate, swiping the crumbs to the side.  _‘It’s nice wood, just needs to be washed.  Also, maybe replacing the carpet would be a good idea…’_

Alan looked at the gray fuzz beneath his feet. He was sure it had once been white, and certainly didn’t have all those strange spots on it when it was put in.  _‘Yes.  We definitely will need a new carpet.  Oh…’_

With a start, he realized he was thinking in ‘we’s now.  _‘Eric has not said anything about me moving in,’_ he sternly reminded himself. _‘Although…’_

He looked over at Eric.  The window was actually two sliding doors leading to a small balcony that looked into the front yard, and Eric had opened the doors wide to let air in.  The tall reaper was standing in the sun, letting the breeze ruffle his hair as he wiped off his glasses.  Putting them on, he glanced back at Alan.

“I’m getting more worried about what you’re thinking about me every second,” he said, coming back into the room.  “I never really realized what a slob I am.”

“I can fix that,” Alan said.  “I’m sort of a neat freak myself.”

Eric grinned. “Does that make us compatible or are we just going to create an explosion?”  He walked across the room to another door.  “The office is connected to this room and the hall for easy access.  And there’s a closet here that’s sort of a laundry room.”

Alan followed, listening to Eric as he pointed out his desk and then hurriedly tried to organize the papers that littered the surface.  And Alan listened, but he didn’t really hear what Eric was saying.

_“Does that make us compatible or are we just going to create an explosion?”_

Alan watched as Eric dug through a drawer for a folder to put some of the papers in, swearing it was here yesterday.  He threw his hand up and told Alan he’d be right back; it must be in the kitchen.  Alan nodded and Eric ran out.

Alan stood in the office for a moment, and then wandered back into the living room.

_“Does that make us compatible or are we just going to create an explosion?”_

Going out onto the balcony, Alan leaned his elbows on the rail and let the sun warm him.  A sparrow landed on the rail and Alan looked over at it.

“Hello,” he said quietly.  “So, which is it? Compatible? Or explosion?’

The bird cocked its head at him and hopped forward a few inches.  Alan sighed, and rested his chin his hand. “Honestly… I’d be happy either way…  As long as he stays my friend.”

“Hey.”

The sparrow fluttered away as Eric came out and leaned on the rail beside him, hands in pockets.  Alan glanced up.

“So,” Eric said, looking out at the buildings across the street.  “Do you think you can manage?”

“Hm?” Alan asked, straightening.

Eric adjusted his glasses. “Think that you can manage living with me?”

Alan took off his glasses, rubbing the lens with his sleeve.  “I think that maybe I can… On one condition.”

Eric’s eyes flicked to him. “Oh?”

Alan put his glasses back on and smiled up at Eric.  “You let me organize your folders.  I can’t stand messy papers.”

Eric stared at him for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “It’s a deal, Mr. Humphries!” He said, holding out his hand.  “You can organize my whole house if you like!”

“Perfect, Mr. Slingby,” Alan said, taking Eric’s hand.  “And I might just take you up on that offer.”


	7. Tidying Things Up

The next morning when Alan opened his eyes, he was surprised to find a light lavender colored wall facing him instead of a stark white one.  As he rubbed his eyes, he remembered where he was and a pleasant feeling enveloped him.  No infirmary, no sick room, just Eric’s house.

 _‘It’s my house as well,’_ he reminded himself, pushing back the covers and carefully sliding out of bed.  Going to the dresser, he looked in the mirror, but everything was fuzzy without his glasses.  Putting them on, his surroundings jumped into focus.  The room Eric had given him was the second bedroom.  Eric said he had never used it for anything but storage, so the bed was surrounded by a few boxes and piles of folded clothing, which Eric promised he’d get rid of soon.  Alan’s small satchel was sitting on the chest at the foot of the bed, and he opened it, but decided to forgo dressing for the moment.  Going to the door, he opened it and went into the hall.  No sounds came from anywhere in the flat and when he reached the kitchen, a section of the island was cleared off and a note sat in the middle of it.

_Alan,_

_Went to work. With you here, out of the infirmary, Will said I should take on some of my retrieval duties again.  I’ll be back for our usual afternoon classes._

_-Eric_

Folding the note, Alan slipped it into the breast pocket of his pajama shirt and went to the refrigerator. He hesitated at the door, but put a hand over his nose and mouth and determinedly opened it.  There wasn’t much inside.  A six pack of some sort of alcoholic beverage, one egg, a pizza that looked older than the refrigerator itself.  Alan opened the milk and gagged at the odor that came from inside.

“Not a single green thing,” he said out loud. “Unless you count the mold on that butter.”  With a sigh, he closed the refrigerator door and looked in the freezer.  The only things in there were prepackaged meals, a half a carton of ice cream, and more pizza.

Going to the cabinet, Alan was relieved to find there was at least some tea.  After five minutes of looking for a teapot, he found one under the sink.  Washing it thoroughly, he filled it with water and set it on the stove.  Another sigh escaped his lips when he realized the very stovetop could be a fire hazard to itself.  Removing the grates, he rolled up his sleeves, filled the sink with hot soapy water, and scrubbed the blackened stove top until it gleamed white.  His arm was sore by the time it was clean.  Replacing the grates, he started a fire under the teapot and turned his attention to the island.

_‘If I’m going to have a place to sit and drink my tea…’_

After removing some papers and things that looked mildly important, he picked up the trash bin and spent the next few minutes swiping everything off the surface into the can.  As he cleared the last of it away, a knock sounded from down the hall.  Setting the bin back in the corner, Alan made to go to the door, then hesitated and looked down at himself.

Still in his pajamas… should he answer it?

Another knock came and Alan continued toward the door, pushing his sleeves down.  He’d at least see who it was.  Stepping over the shoes in the hall, he went up on his toes and looked through the peephole. The movement didn’t agree with his stomach, but seeing the person standing on the landing chased away the pain.

Thom Danys.  What was he doing here?  What did he want?  Should he open the door?

 _‘He did try to come and apologize at the infirmary… I can’t avoid him forever; that would be rude.’_   Undoing the lock, Alan thought, _‘I can always make him go away with some excuse.’_

Thom was turning around toward the steps when Alan opened the door but looked back when he heard the hinges squeak. “Oh, you’re here! I wasn’t sure anyone was home after all.”

“Mr. Slingby’s not here,” Alan said.

“Yeah,” Thom said. “I figured he’d be at work.”  He scratched the back of his neck and looked down at Alan’s slippers.  “I came to see you.”

Alan could see Thom was struggling to talk, but he didn’t do anything, waiting to see what the other reaper would say.

“I… I brought some of your stuff over,” Thom said.  “Heard you were staying here and thought...”  He turned and picked up a box that had been sitting behind him.  “It’s not all of it, just a few of your notebooks, some clothes and other things….”

His voice trailed off and he looked at the box in his hands. “Well…  I’ll leave it here I guess…”

They stood for an awkward moment until a whistle cut sharply through the air.

“Oh, the water,” Alan remembered with a start.

“I’ll just set this somewhere,” Thom said quickly, looking around.

Alan stepped out of the doorway. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll put it someplace.”

“A-Alright,” Thom said, looking surprised.  “Of course.”

He followed Alan through the hall and into the kitchen, standing uncertainly in the room as Alan took care of the water.  He found two mugs and set them on the counter.  “Would you like some tea?”

The surprise came back into Thom’s face and he set the box on the island with a stutter. “Um, sure. Thank you.”

Alan silently poured the hot water over the tea and pushed a steaming mug over to Thom, who sat down across from him, cradling the cup in his hands.  After a moment, Alan spoke.

“Thom-.”

But Thom cut him off. “Wait.  Alan. I came here for a reason. Yeah, I brought you your stuff, but really…”  He stared down into his tea, and the moisture drifting upwards fogged his glasses.  “Man, I don’t know how I can apologize for this.  We treated you like… like… I don’t even know what.”  He pushed his hair back and looked at Alan. “You don’t have to forgive us.  I don’t blame you.  At all.”

Alan glanced down into his tea.  Thom was sincere, he knew that much.  Whether Henry felt the same way…  Alan doubted his guilt ran as deep.  Blowing on his tea to cool it, the reaper looked up at Thom.

“I suppose…” he said slowly, “I do forgive you, Thom.”

“Really?”  Alan had never seen anyone look more ashamed in their entire life.  “Wow, man.”

“After all,” Alan said, his hand automatically going to his middle, “you didn’t…”

“Yeah, that jerk,” Thom growled, his hands clenching into fists.  “I’m glad I don’t have to share a flat with him anymore.  Finally got my own place.”

“You passed your test?” Alan asked, sitting up.

Thom nodded, taking a gulp of tea. “Yeah, about a week ago.  They were gonna pair me with Henry, but I refused.”

“What was it like?” Alan asked, curious and wary at the same time.

Thom waved a hand. “Not that bad, actually. The way everyone talks, you’d think it would be hard, but it’s just what we do, right?”

“Right,” Alan said his fingers tightening around his mug. “Just what we do…”

_‘He wouldn’t understand.  It’s not just collecting a soul for me. It’s the end of something, of a precious life… No one really understands, not even Eric, though he’s come the closet to making me feel like maybe I can still change…’_

Thom pushed his empty mug away and glanced around. “So… You like it here?”

Alan’s eyes flitted over the obvious mess that still clung to the edges of the room.  “Yes,” he said.  “But we’ve got some… renovating to do.  And there’s no food in the house at the moment…”

 _‘Edible food,’_ he added in his head.

“If you need anything, I’d be happy to help,” Thom said. “Just name it.” Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “I know!  I’ll run and buy some food for you!”

Alan was taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Oh, well, you don’t have to-.”

Thom shook his head and pushed back his hair.  “No problem. I’ll go buy food for you right now. What do you need?”

 _‘Everything,’_ Alan thought.  “Why don’t I write you out a list?”  He glanced around and found a scrap of paper and a pencil.  As he scribbled, he shook his head. “You really don’t have to do this.  I’m sure Eric can-.”

“I _want_ to,” Thom assured him.  “You just stay here and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Alright,” Alan said, allowing a small smile onto his face as he handed Thom the list.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t think of it!” Thom called as he went into the hall.  A moment later Alan heard the door slam shut and he sat down, letting out a short puff of breath that made his bangs flutter.

“That was far too nice of him,” Alan said quietly to his tea.  “He really didn’t have to.”  Taking another look around, he shook his head. “But it is a help.” 

After taking his first sip of tea that morning, he set aside the mug and rolled up his sleeves again.  If he didn’t have to worry about the food, he was going to focus on the rest of the house.  Picking up the trash bin, he sucked in a determined breath and attacked the mess.

I _IIIIII_ I

When Eric pulled up in front of the house, the first thing he noticed was the balcony doors were open and the curtains were blowing in the wind.  The second thing he noticed was when he got out of the car and nearly tripped over the trash bags that sat by the gate.  Strange smells were coming from them and Eric quickly went to the door and stepped inside.

Heading up the steps to the landing, he unlocked the door and went in.  Tossing his coat onto the bench, he moved toward the kitchen, calling, “Alan?  Sorry I’m late.  Where are… you…?”

His voice trailed off as he stepped into the room.  His heart started beating faster, he was so surprised.  He didn’t even recognize his own kitchen.  Walking over the island, he spread his hands over it. He could _spread his hands over it_ without knocking anything to the side, and the same went for the countertops.  Eric chuckled at the amazement he was feeling.

“Oh, Alan,” he said, shaking his head.  Looking around he turned toward the door.  “But where are you?”

He crossed the hall and moved into the living room, where a similar phenomenon seemed to have occurred.  There wasn’t a scrap of trash to be seen, the loose clothing was piled in the corner, and not a single bottle sat unbecomingly anywhere in the room. The open balcony doors let in a fresh breeze that masked the cigarette smell.

“Ah,” Eric said quietly, “there you are.”

Alan was sprawled out on the couch, still wearing his glasses, mouth open and eyes closed.  Eric cast around for a blanket and found one on the back of the chair.  He spread it over Alan and brushed a few small dust bunnies from the reaper’s shirt.

“You’re supposed to be resting, mister,” he said softly, removing Alan’s glasses and setting them on the table.  “Not cleaning the whole place.  I think lessons will have to wait until tomorrow.”

He quietly headed toward the office and had almost reached the door when Alan’s sleepy voice came from behind him.

“Did you take your shoes off?”

Eric looked down at his shiny black shoes and then glanced back at Alan.  The reaper’s eyes were still closed and Eric crept across the room toward the entrance hall, sending back a whispered “yes,” as he did.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan woke with a start, pushing himself up to look around with bleary eyes.  His heart was beating hard and even after he rubbed his eyes the room was still dim and blurry.  Casting about for his glasses, he saw a glint on the table and picked them up, settling them on his face with shaking fingers.  Unsure of his condition, he took several deep breaths.

 _‘Must have been a nightmare,’_ he thought, though for the life of him he couldn’t recall what it had been.

Feeling more at ease, he yawned and stretched, forgetting about his stomach until it painfully reminded him that his movements were limited.  Pushing back the blanket, he saw light filtering in from the kitchen and realized Eric must be back.  He vaguely remembered saying something to the other reaper, but had no idea how long ago that had been.  The balcony doors were closed, the shades drawn tight over them, and when Alan parted them a crack, only lights from the surrounding buildings illuminated the outside world.

Alan felt flustered as he stared out at the night. _‘I’ve slept the entire afternoon away...  And we were supposed to have a lesson too.’_

He closed the drapes again and went into the kitchen.  Eric was sitting at the island, eating an apple and reading a newspaper.  He glanced up when Alan entered and waved the fruit in greeting.  “You’re up at last!  You must have been pretty tired.”

“Yes, I was,” Alan answered.

Eric looked back at his newspaper. “Well, it’s too late for a lesson now, but-“

Alan slapped his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, Mr. Eric!  I didn’t even set an alarm so I would wake up, and now I’ve gone and wasted a whole day!”  He bowed stiffly, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

Eric lowered the paper. “Hey, relax!  Don’t worry about it; there will be plenty of time to catch up with stuff tomorrow.”

Alan straightened and Eric studied him.   Standing in the doorway in his grubby blue pajamas, wearing an upset expression, Eric thought he looked especially small and fragile.

“Anything we could have done today can be done tomorrow,” he said. “And I don’t have work so we can spend a little extra time, if you want.”

Relief was obvious on Alan’s face as he nodded and went to the cabinet, pulling out a box of tea.  Eric took another bite of his apple and turned in his seat to face Alan.  “You know, you are supposed to be taking it easy.”

Alan smiled as he took down a blue mug from the cabinet.  “I know.  I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I really don’t understand that,” Eric said.  He chuckled.  “Obviously, I’m not a neat person like you.”  He finished the apple and tossed the core across the room, where it rattled down into the trash bin.  “The place looks like new.”

Alan filled the teapot with water and set it on the stovetop.  “There’s still a lot of cleaning to do,” he said, then blushed. “Sorry… but your house…”

Eric chuckled. “You don’t need to apologize.  It’s a rat’s nest, I know.”  Picking up the paper, he turned back to the headlines. “Tell you what; tomorrow before lessons, I’ll make some use of myself and help you get this place clean.  What do you think of that?”

Alan smiled at the cup in his hands. “I think… I’d like that very much.”

“So,” Eric continued. “Where’d the box come from?”

“Oh, Thom stopped earlier,” answered Alan, glancing at the container that sat on the counter.  “He brought over some of my things.”

“He did?” Eric glanced over at Alan. “Did he stay long?”

“We had tea,” Alan said to Eric’s surprise.  “And he’s the one who bought all the food.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank him,” Eric said.  He looked at the newspaper but didn’t read the words.  Instead, he smirked inwardly. _‘Well, at least that’s one punk who learned his lesson…’_


	8. Less of a Mess

“You ready for this?”

Alan took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around the handle. “Yes.”

“There’s no turning back now,” Eric said, rolling up his sleeves.  “Once started, you can never back down.”

“I can do this,” Alan said.

Eric nodded. “I’m with you every step of the way.”

Alan narrowed his eyes.  “Right.”

Eric clenched his fists. “Let’s go!”

With more zeal that anything he had done in his entire life, Alan plunged the mop into the bucket and splashed the water on the floor like a tidal wave.  “Let’s do this!”

“Sponges!” Eric cried, soaking the yellow squishy things in water and dropping to his hands and knees.  He swept them along the floor in long strokes, leaving sparkling trails in their wake.  “This house doesn’t have a chance against us!”

Alan attacked the floor with the mop like it was the most important job he had ever had. Within twenty minutes the floor was shining and both of them had their trousers soaked to the knees.  Alan pulled off his sopping wet socks and tossed them into the sink. “The ceiling’s next!”

“Leave that to me,” Eric said, grabbing the duster from the arsenal of cleaning supplies he had bought earlier that morning.  Climbing onto the island, he stepped from counter to counter, pulling down the spider webs, sending the arachnids fleeing down the wall to where Alan scooped them into cups and made sure none escaped to other parts of the house.

“Careful!” he said, watching Eric jump down to the ground. “The floor’s still slippery!”

“What’s next?” the tall reaper asked, shaking the duster into the trash bin.

“Cabinets,” Alan said, and Eric grimaced. 

“Ah.  Fun.” He opened one of the cabinet and peered inside.  “These are just dusty.”

“Look at these,” Alan said, kneeling and peering under the sink. Eric got down beside him and gagged.

“Is that a mouse nest?”  He glanced at the sides of the cabinet. “I don’t even want to know what all that grime is…”

“You get the lower cabinets,” Alan said, rising to his feet.

“What?” said Eric. “But I’m taller!  You should work on these low ones.”

“It’s your grime,” Alan answered, pulling a stool over and kneeling on it.  He stared taking out plates, cups and bowls from the cabinets and wiping them with a damp cloth. Eric sighed and looked back at the mysterious depths of the lower cabinets.

“Right…”

Half an hour later Alan finished organizing the last dish and closed the cabinet door, then looked over at Eric to how he was progressing.  The tall reaper had avoided under the sink and was scrubbing away at the other low cabinets.  Alan got off the stool and put it back in its place.  Picking up the trash bin, he scooped up all the garbage they had gathered from the room and headed for the door.

“I’m bringing this stuff out to the walk,” he called from the hall. “And I’m going to let the spiders go.”

“Don’t work yourself to hard!” Eric yelled after him as Alan pushed the door open with his toe and headed down the stairs. At the bottom, he was about to set the bin down when the other door opened and the building’s third tenant stepped into the hall.

“Hello, Mr. Hayze,” Alan said.  He had never met Hayze personally, only seen and observed him from afar.  The reaper had neat brown hair that was mostly short, but had a few long spiky bangs swept to the right side of his face. His glasses were large and square.  Alan wondered if Hayze knew they had watched him collect a soul.

“Alan Humphries, is it?” Hayze asked, reaching for the door and opening it.

Alan nodded. “Yes, sir.  Thank you.”

“Eric told me you would be moving in,” Hayze said, following Alan out into the yard.  “Seems like you’re finally getting that pig sty he calls a home into order.”

“We’re organizing,” Alan said.  “Yes.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Hayze said, heading though the gate. “You need it.”

“Thanks,” Alan said, watching him walk away.  He sighed and leaned against the fence, gently touching his middle. It was sore, but not enough to stop him from diving back into the mess.  Taking the container of spiders from the top of the trash, he unscrewed the cover and watched them skitter away into the dry grass, confused and looking for a new home.  Standing there, he enjoyed the sun for a moment, and watched a butterfly flutter though the yard.  Alan held out his hand, knowing the creature would be attracted by his lavender cardigan, the only bright color on the white, gray, and brown block.

“Poor fellow,” Alan whispered as the butterfly moved closer, delicate wings flapping. “You don’t have any food here, do you?”

The butterfly alighted on the tip of his finger and slowly moved its wings, investigating his skin with its long proboscis.  Alan slowly moved his hand to his shoulder and the butterfly stepped onto it.

“Come inside and I’ll make you some sugar water,” he said, heading back toward the door.  “It’s better than nothing, right?”

He opened the door, but no sooner had he stepped inside than a terrific yell sounded from upstairs, following by garbled shouting.  Alan jumped, and then quickly shut the door, running up the steps as fast as he could.  The butterfly lifted from his shoulder and drifted after him.

“Eric?” he called, reaching the landing and wrenching open the door.  The shouting had turned to loud swearing as Alan dashed down the hallway and burst into the kitchen, skidding around the island to come to a screeching halt.

“What happened?” he asked, then stopped and stared at the scene before him.

Eric was lying on his back, partway under the sink, dripping with the blackest, slipperiest slime Alan had ever seen.

“What _is_ that?” Alan asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Stupid-.” Eric stopped to spit some of the gunk out of his mouth.  “I unscrewed the damn drain pipe and this stuff came pouring out!”  He shook his hand and drops of the goop flew into the air. “My glasses saved my eyes, thank god…”

Alan studied him, laying there, his white shirt stained in black, slime all over his face and in his hair, swearing about toxic grime, and a grin broke onto the young reaper’s face.

“You look funny,” he said, leaning over and holding out his hand.  Eric reached for it, but suddenly the pipe burbled and before either one of them could move out of the way, another spray of slime poured out, splattering Eric, the nice clean floor, and Alan.

They froze, staring at the pipe, but it was quiet.

“The beast has settled again,” Eric whispered, and Alan giggled.

Then he giggled again, then he chuckled, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor, holding his middle and nearly choking on his own laughter.

Eric stared at him, trying to control his mirth, and then he was laughing too, and they both sat there on the kitchen floor, dripping gunk and laughing until they almost cried.

After a while, Alan was gasping for breath and cringing as his stomach cruelly reminded him uncontrollable laughter was something he should avoid.  Eric tried to wipe the gunk from his own face but only succeed in smearing it more.

“Well, that was fun,” the tall reaper said.

“I’m in pain,” Alan said, still gasping for breath. “Help.”

Eric immediately got up and helped Alan onto a stool.  “You think you damaged anything?”

Alan shook his head. “It just hurts.”  He smiled. “But… it was worth it.”

“At the expense of us and the floor,” Eric said, looking around.  “But yes, it felt good.”  He grinned at Alan, who smiled back, then winced.

“You need a shower,” Alan said.

“So do you,” Eric pointed out.  “Why don’t you go first?  Then you can rest.”

“But you’ve got more-.”

Eric shook his head. “I can deal with it for a bit. It only smells about as bad as the socks under my bed.  Come on.”

He took put his arm around Alan and helped the reaper into the hall to the bathroom.  Alan looked over his shoulder. “We’re leaving a path.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Eric said, opening the bathroom door.  Alan sat on the edge of the tub and Eric turned on the water, testing to make sure it wasn’t too hot.  Then he rummaged around in the cabinet for a moment before pulling out a bottle of shampoo and a bar of soap.

“Here you go,” he said, setting them next to the sink.  Looking around, he snapped his fingers. “You need a towel.”

“You’re acting like a mother hen,” Alan said, and Eric shook his head.

“Who, me?  Who cleaned the house?  I’ll be right back.”

Eric left the room and walked to the end of hall, only realizing he was still making a slight goop trail when he had reached hall closet.  _‘Oh well,’_ he thought, opening the door.  _‘Just a bit more to wash up.’_

He grabbed a towel and went back to the bathroom, opening the door.  Alan had his shirt unbuttoned, but hurriedly pulled it shut when Eric entered.  The tall reaper saw him blushing and quickly handed over the towel.

“Here you go,” he said.  “Don’t worry about using up the hot water; take your time.  Use my bathrobe if you want.”

“Thank you,” Alan said and Eric nodded before closing the door.  He pushed his hair back from his face and sighed.

_‘I wonder...  He hasn’t asked me to help him change since he got out of the infirmary…  Embarrassed? Probably.  I would be too, right?’_

Rolling down his sleeves, Eric went back to the kitchen.  The slime wasn’t everywhere; mainly under the sink and in a small trail down the hall.  Going to the sink, Eric turned the water on hot and washed his face and arms up the elbow.  His hair would have to wait, but his shirt was coming off now.  Removing the stained white cloth, he dropped it in the basin and turned his attention to the floor.

Several minutes of scrubbing later, the area under the sink was mostly clean, and Eric was making his way out the door and down the hall on his hands and knees with a sponge.  But his mind was still on the same track.

_‘I didn’t mind helping Alan the other day.  If he asked, I would do it again. But he wouldn’t ask; he’s not like that.  But if he did, I wouldn’t hesitate.’_

The sponge removed every trace of the slime and Eric moved on.

 _‘Maybe_ I _was the reason he was embarrassed? Did I seem too easy about it? I didn’t feel like I was being weird, though trying to button his shirt… maybe that was to forward?’_

Eric reached the closet and sat back on his heels.

_‘He just needs space like any normal reaper. Nothing wrong with that.  Maybe I’m just a freak or something and can’t see other people’s personal bubbles.’_

“What the hell am I trying to say to myself?” Eric said out loud. “I can’t even follow my own train of thought.”

Standing, he headed back toward the kitchen.  _‘Maybe I’m trying to make sense of why I feel so… attached to him…’_

Dropping the sponge in the sink, he picked up the bucket of greasy wash water.  Going into the living room, he went onto the balcony and looked down.  A dusty corner of the yard was below and Eric tipped the gray contents of the bucket over the edge and watched it splash to the dirt.  Setting the bucket down, he leaned on the rail and glanced at his watch.  11:45. Almost lunchtime.  He wondered if he should attempt a meal.  Sandwiches couldn’t be that hard.

“Yeah and neither was tightening the drain pipe,” he reminded himself. “But we’re both going to be starving if we don’t eat anything.”

Opening the fridge, he quickly realized he didn’t know what he was doing. _‘Do I not even know how to make a simple sandwich?  What do I put on it?’_ Closing his eyes, he reached out.  When he opened his eyes, he was holding a jar of peanut butter.  Then his eyes went to a container sitting next to it.

“Aha,” he said, smirking. “Perfect.”

He opened the kitchen closet and pulled out an apron.  _‘An apron for sandwiches?  It’s more to protect the sandwiches from me.’_ As he started slicing bread, a light blue flash of color caught his eye.  Glancing up, he saw a butterfly fluttering near the ceiling. 

“How’d you get in?” Eric asked, watching as it made its way to the refrigerator and landed on the door.  “Well,” he said, turning back to his work, “I suppose you can keep me company for the time being.”

I _IIIIII_ I

It took a while, but eventually Alan was one hundred percent sure he didn’t smell like sewer anymore.  He turned off the shower and pulled the drain, letting the sudsy water gurgle away.  Toweling off his hair, he stepped out of the tub and put his glasses on.  The room jumped into focus and he looked at the mirror, but it was fogged up.  Wiping the surface with his hand, he was pleased to see there was not a drop of slime to be seen.

Patting himself dry, he glanced at Eric’s robe hanging on the back of the door. He lifted it off and rubbed the dark blue cloth between his fingers.  It was soft and warm and Alan let out a gentle breath as he slipped it on and it enveloped him in its coziness.

As he opened the bathroom door, the steam escaped into the hall like ghosts fleeing before him.  He took a step toward his room, but the sound of Eric’s voice stopped him.  Curious about who the reaper might be talking to, Alan crept toward the kitchen and peeked around the doorframe.

There was no one but Eric in sight, but that was enough to make Alan stop for a moment, watching Eric standing before a sticky, crumbly, lunchtime mess, slime drying in his hair and his shirt in the sink.  Alan couldn’t help but smile when he saw the apron.

“You know, I don’t even know what you would eat,” Eric was saying.  “Peanut butter? Do you have a mouth?”

The tall reaper looked up and Alan followed his gaze to the ceiling lamp, where he quickly recognized the butterfly from before.  Moving around the door, he entered the kitchen.  “Butterflies generally eat nectar from flowers,” he said.  He watched the butterfly flutter down to the table.  “I let him in earlier.  I was going to make him some sugar water.”

“There’s not a lot of nectar around here, is there,” Eric said holding out his hand.  The butterfly probed his fingertip for a second, then flew up and landed on the reaper’s glasses.

“He likes the purple tint,” Alan smiled as Eric blew gently to get the creature off his face.  Alan walked around and took a saucer from the cabinet. “What are you making?”

“Huh?” Eric looked down. “A mess that was going to be sandwiches.”

Alan looked around him. “Peanut butter and… pickles?”

“You’ve never had this before?”

Alan shook his head, putting a bit of water in the saucer and pouring a teaspoon of sugar into it. He set the saucer on the island and pulled up a stool, watching as Eric placed slices of pickle on the peanut butter.  It looked… interesting.

“I was thinking we would go out for our lessons today,” Eric said, glancing at Alan.

The other reaper switched his gaze to the butterfly.  It had settled on the saucer’s edge and was testing the water with its proboscis.  “I think that’s a good idea,” Alan answered quietly.

Eric set down the slice of bread in his hand and touched Alan on the shoulder.  “You’re not still thinking you can’t do this, are you?”

Alan looked up at him. “Well… when we first started, I thought I was hopeless.” He shook his head. “Then I felt more comfortable with it, but now, again I feel…”

“It’s because we haven’t gone out for a while,” Eric said. “Don’t worry; it’ll get easier for you again.” The tall reaper finished cutting the sandwiches into halves and held one out to Alan. “Here. I know you must be hungry.”

“Thank you,” Alan said, taking the proffered meal.

“Mff,” Eric replied, half of his already gone.

Alan looked at his for a moment, and then took a hesitant bite.  Half a second later his eyes widened and he took another, larger mouthful.  Eric grinned. “I knew you would like it.”

Alan nodded, his mouth to full to speak.  Eric finished his sandwich and untied the apron strings, slipping the apron off and tossing it onto a stool. “I’d better get cleaned up if we’re going to get lessons started,” he said, heading for the door.

“Um…” said Alan and Eric turned.

“Huh?” he asked, but immediately smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck, looking at the table. “Right…”

Ten minutes later he was in the shower and the kitchen counters were spotless, not a sticky butter knife or a single slice of pickle to be seen.


	9. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this yesterday and forgot. T-T Sorry!

_‘A week,’_ thought Alan.  _‘Just one week…’_

That’s how long ago they had started up observance lesson for the second time.  The first one this time was an old woman, dying of heart failure, Eric said.  Alan silently thanked his mentor for choosing a death such as that one.  He had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of seeing a human die again, after such a long absence of their lessons.  But the old woman had looked peaceful as she slipped away from the living, and Alan watched with clasped hands and a silent wish for her to be at peace.

Thom Danys had been the collector of the woman’s soul, and he waved to Alan before taking up his new death scythe and reaping her soul.  After sending her on her final journey, he had hopped across to the rooftop they had been watching from.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he had said, smiling at Alan and then turning and bowing before Eric. “Mr. Slingby, sir.”

“Danys,” Eric had replied.

The younger reaper turned back to Alan. “So this is what your lessons are?  None of the others teachers did anything like this. Mr. Eccles is more of a real teacher type, you know?” He suddenly cringed and turned to Eric. “Not that you’re not a real teacher, sir!”

“You collect so easily, Thom,” Alan said softly, looking across the buildings.

“Eh, it’s not that hard.”  Thom shrugged, then seemed to notice Alan’s mood. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Alan hesitated.

Eric stepped forward.  “Just tired, right?  We’ve mostly been doing paperwork lately.  And the sun’s probably getting to you.   Why don’t you just sit for a minute and then we’ll go.”

Alan nodded and sat cross-legged on the roof, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.  Thom frowned at him, confused, but then Eric’s hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him a few feet away from Alan.

“Can I ask you a favor, Danys?” Eric asked.

Thom nodded. “Anything you want, sir!”

Eric sighed inwardly.  He wished the kid would stop acting like he was a bomb about to go off at any second. “Would you mind _not_ mentioning to Mr. Eccles that we’re observing soul collections?”

“Huh?” The confusion on Thom’s face was apparent. “Why?”  Then he seemed to comprehend what he was saying and nodded quickly.  “I mean, yes, sir! I can do that… I guess.”

Eric put one hand on his hip and pushed his glasses up his nose with the other. “I suppose I should give you an explanation.”  The reaper glanced over at Alan, who was still sitting with his eyes closed.  “In my mind, this is the only way Alan’s going to get over whatever trouble he’s been going through.”

“You mean his thoughts on reaping?” Thom studied Alan’s back. “I thought it was just a phase.”

“He’s getting better,” Eric said, “but Mr. Eccles doesn’t share mindsets with me.  I think, to him, putting Alan in the middle of it would be the worst possible thing.”

“But you think having him experience it is better,” said Thom. “So when he does finally have to collect a soul, he can take some of these memories in with him and feel more comfortable in the situation.”

Eric looked at the new reaper in surprise.  It was then that he realized that perhaps he wasn’t the only one who had decided to try and understand Alan, despite the differences of the young reaper’s mind.

Thom turned determinedly back to the tall reaper. “You can count on me not to say a word, sir.”

“Thank you,” Eric said, and Thom smiled.

“Sure.  Now I’d better get on with work or I’ll have to write a report on why I was late turning in my papers.”  Thom looked over his shoulder. “See ya, Alan!”

Alan opened his eyes. “See you later, Thom.”

With a wave, the reaper was gone, hurrying away to his next task, and Eric helped Alan to his feet.  “Ready to go?”

Now Alan was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, fighting to stay calm.  _‘Day one was hard, getting back out and seeing it happen… but day two wasn’t so bad…’_

Alan leaned on the little country house’s fence, ignoring the pickets that dug into his arms as he stared determinedly through the window.   Infected wound, Eric said.  Nothing seriously unusual on a farm, but this family couldn’t afford treatment for their husband and father.

_‘Day three he started explaining soul retrieval techniques, like he had in our earlier lessons.  I hadn’t forgotten anything… but he reviewed a few simple tricks anyway.’_

The alleyway was dark and the middle aged man who sat coughing and holding his middle passed slowly, the thugs who had beat him for a few pennies long gone by the time Eric and Alan arrived.  That one had left Alan feeling sick, though he carefully hid it until he stepped into the shower that night.  The hot water washed away his tears, but not the sorrow.

_‘Thursday was just paperwork, and more house cleaning, though every day we had worked on it a little.  My bedroom doesn’t look like a storage area anymore, and the living room is actually quite cozy, though the carpet should still be replaced...’_

Days five and six had left Alan feeling empty.  They watched the groom hold his bride’s smoke stained body as their new home vanished under an orange bloom of flames, and then a young wife cry over her husband’s body after they pulled him from the river.

“No one should lose someone they just got,” he mumbled over his cup of tea, the steam fogging his glasses.

Eric had taken a drink of his whiskey and looked out of the diner window without a reply, but he put his hand over Alan’s and gave it a quick squeeze before declaring they should go.

Sunday, Eric had work all day and Alan stayed home and cooked, for lack of anything better to do.  Thom showed up around dinnertime and they ate rice and boiled potatoes together and then folded laundry until Thom left.  Alan washed the dishes and had just finished putting them away when Eric arrived home, stiff and tired.

Alan reheated the food and they’d shared a pot of tea before going to sleep.  It had been a pleasant day for Alan, overall, and Thom had brought the rest of his things over.

But today…

Alan sat up.  He couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he tried.  Not after today.  He threw back the covers and reached for his glasses.

He stepped out into the hall, not knowing where he was headed.  Eric’s door was closed and faint snoring could be heard from behind it.  Continuing on, Alan moved into the living room.  The drapes were open and the room was dimly lit by the moon and the streetlamps.  He went to the doors and looked out.  Everything was quiet, a deceitful calm.

It had been a carriage accident.  They had come across the pair of coaches while heading back to the car and stopped to watch.  No reapers had arrived yet, but Alan could already see which souls would be collected.  A woman inside the carriage and one of the drivers were too still and quiet for life.  A group of men were trying to calm the horses and get the carriages righted again.

“There’s our reaper,” Eric said, nodding down the street.

Alan looked and saw the familiar crimson of Grell’s hair bobbing down the walk.  She casually strolled into the crowd and went up to the woman.  As she revved her death scythe, Alan realized he had never seen Grell collect a soul before.  The intense look of satisfaction on her face as she drove the sharp teeth of the chainsaw into the woman’s chest was unnerving, and Alan shivered as she went on to the driver.

 _‘She doesn’t mind it at all,’_ he thought.  _‘She could reap a thousand souls and they would all be just another job.’_ Then he scolded himself. _‘Get over it!  It’s your job too!’_

Soon Grell was gone and he saw Eric was watching him.  Alan glanced down and clasped his hands.

“Take a breath?” Eric asked and Alan nodded, lying back on the rooftop and carefully steadying his breathing. 

“It’s not as bad, this time,” he whispered.  “I think… maybe I can do this someday…”

He wondered if he was lying to himself and closed his eyes. He had just found a measured pattern of heartbeat and breath when Eric muttered under his breath, “Damn.”

Alan looked up. “What?”

“What on _earth_ are you doing here?”

Alan sat up as a shadow fell across him, and he found Sendyn Eccles standing over him, the teacher’s scythe clenched tightly in his hand.  Eric adjusted his glasses.  “At the moment?  Lessons. I’d thank you for not interrupting.”

“Lessons?” gasped Eccles.

Alan knew Mr. Eccles took his work seriously, making sure each of his students did their work correctly and diligently, training them to become proper reapers.  He had never seen the man get angry at one of his students, nor at anyone else, even if their paper was late or they missed a class.  He was a generally kind reaper, if a bit strict at times.

But now the look on his face shocked Alan.  It was complete and utter rage and disgust, and it was aimed directly at Eric.

“Yes, lessons.  You aren’t deaf, are you?”  Eric’s tone was light, his scythe casually propped on his shoulder, but Alan saw the underlying flicker of anger in each movement, heard it buried within every word.

“No, but I have been blind!” Eccles glared at Eric.  “I should have seen that you were coming out here! It’s against regulations!”

“That’s a typical reaper teacher for you, Alan,” Eric said, and Alan glanced up at him.  “Head inside a box, never trying new things. It’s just the same routine every day.  Doesn’t even have a personally modified death scythe.  Just stuck to an old fashioned hand type.”

“At least we take a moment to think about our students!” Eccles replied harshly.  “Don’t you remember what I said to you?”

“As I recall, you were concerned for Alan, since he’s been under my mentorship,” answered Eric.

“Exactly.”  Eccles looked down to the street below. “Do you really think showing him this is going to help?  What he needs is a proper education in reaping souls, not this bloody mess!”

“This ‘bloody mess’ is what he’s going to be seeing every week!” Eric said, his voice becoming rougher. “To teach theory is foolish! He needs to experience it or he’ll never be ready when the time comes!”

Alan was becoming more and more irritated with the two men as they talked as though he wasn’t there.  While he was sympathetic with Eccles’ views, he knew what Eric was doing was best for him.

“I-,” he started, but Eccles was speaking even louder now.

“Do you even see what you’re doing to him?” the teacher demanded. “You say you’re helping him, but look!”  He took Alan’s arm in his hand. “He’s shaking!  This is what your ‘helping’ is doing!”

Eric’s fingers wrapped around Alan’s other arm.  “I am helping, more than you ever could!”

Alan sat frozen between the two, not even able to explain why he was shaking.  It was not the deaths at all.  No, he had not trembled over death for weeks now.  But the way the two men went at each other, as if he was some unspoken challenge they had to win, had made him shake like a fawn staring down the barrel of a gun.  Not knowing what was happening, only that it was dangerous, and escape was nearly impossible.

Eccles’ fingers dug into his arm.  “I have no doubt, Slingby, that you were lying when you said you cared about Alan!”

Eric’s breath was hot on Alan’s cheek and the young reaper could hear his mentor’s teeth grind together. “Why, you bastard!”

Alan found both his voice and his willpower as Eric’s fist clamped onto Eccles’ coat.  He stood up, shoving their hands from him with a furious strength that shocked the two reapers.  “Stop it!”

His voice echoed off the buildings as he stared at them, breathing heavily.  Silence reigned for a moment, the only noise a soft hum from the bustling street far beneath them.

Then Eccles pushed Eric’s hand from his lapels and stepped back.  “Mr. Spears will be getting a full report of this,” he said coldly.

Eric didn’t reply and Eccles looked to Alan.  “You should-.”

“No,” Alan cut him off sharply.  “Sir.”

Eccles stiffened, then turned on his heel and walked quickly away.  Eric watched him go, and then glanced at Alan.  “Hey, I-.”

“Just take us home,” Alan said, his tone unchanging.  Then he too turned and walked away across the roof.  Eric stood in silence for a second, and then followed.  Not a word was exchanged between them that night.

Now Alan sank down onto the couch and put his head in his hands.  He had known all along what they were doing would not be approved of by Mr. Spears or any high ranking reaper.  And now the time had finally come when it had happened.  Someone had interfered and the crime was in plain sight.

Alan lay back on the couch cushions.  They were new; a green that went well with the soft brown sofa and matched Eric’s dark green chair.  They had picked them out that morning and gotten them back to the flat before leaving for their lesson.  Thom had helped.

Letting his eyelids drift shut, Alan wondered what would happen now. Take lessons in a classroom with Eric?  Read books on theory in his office?  Eric had a meeting with Mr. Spears in the morning that would reveal the new plan… Alan just hoped it was a good one.


	10. No Longer Your Concern

Alan woke when Eric slammed a cupboard door.  He sat up with a yawn and listened as his flatmate rattled around the kitchen for a minute before getting up and going through the office and crossing the hall to his room.  Looking at the time, he saw Eric had to leave in ten minutes.  Quickly dressing, Alan went to the kitchen, hesitating in the doorway before entering.

Eric was behind the paper and Alan quietly moved around the kitchen, pouring hot water from the pot over the leaves in his small blue mug and putting jam on a slice of bread.  He sat across from Eric without a word and read the headline for the day’s news.

_‘Two dead, one injured, during carriage accident.’_

Alan didn’t read any farther, but the words stared at him until Eric lowered the paper and their eyes met.  Alan lowered his gaze and Eric set his mug down with a sigh.

“I’m going to be late.”

“I want to come with you.”

Eric seemed like he was about to object, but then only nodded.  They put their dishes in the sink and donned their coats, heading to the car in silence.  Alan stared out the window as Eric drove toward the dispatch building.

After a while, Eric spoke.

“Call me what you like.  I deserve it.”

Alan looked up.  Eric’s eyes were directed straight ahead, but his entire body showed his guilt.  “I acted like a fool yesterday.”

“You both did,” Alan said, looking back out the window. “You both were being so stupid!  Just plain old stupid.”

He didn’t care about the vehemence in his tone, or that he sounded like a complaining child.  He glared at window.  He could see Eric nodding in the reflection.

“Yeah, we were.  But, dammit, Alan, it’s only because I…”

Alan felt the car slow and it came to a jerking halt on the side of the road.  He turned to see Eric looking at him intently.

“I really care about you, Alan,” Eric said, and his voice was rough.  “That doesn’t mean what I did was right.”  He looked back through the windshield.  “But I just wanted you to know that, okay?”

He reached for the gearstick, but before he could turned them, Alan’s arms were around him in an awkward hug.  Eric froze for a second, uncomprehending, then a wave of relief washed over him and he hugged Alan back, holding him tightly in his arms for a long moment.

When they broke free of each other, Alan’s face was flushed red and he slid into his seat, hurriedly buckling himself in.  Eric started the car again and pulled into the lot behind the building.  When they got out, their eyes met over the hood and this time Alan smiled.

This is what a sunny morning was supposed to feel like.

But when they reached Eric’s office, the nervous feeling was back in his stomach and he sat in a chair as Eric went through his files, gathering up reports of what they had been doing in the past weeks.  Pulling out his notebook, Alan flipped to the next blank page and started sketching.

“Be back soon,” Eric said and Alan looked up as he walked by.  He felt he should say something funny or supportive, but all he could manage was, “yeah.”

When Eric left, it was as if his hand moved on its own, guiding the pencil over the paper, going back and forth, sketching out the lines and filling in the shading, creating the face, the same face, over and over.

10:00: His pencil created Eric reading the paper. 10:30: Eric standing on the balcony.  11:00: Eric looking at him out of the book, no smile, but the soft warmth in his eyes that Alan had come to know so well.

12:00: The blank paper screamed at him.  Something was wrong.

12:01: He set down his notebook, tossed aside the pencil, and went for the door.  The hall was empty as Alan moved down it, the door at the end glaring at him, the name William T. Spears glinting on the wood.

He couldn’t hear anything standing outside, but when he went right up to the keyhole, faint voices reached his ear.

“But we won’t go out anymore, Mr. Spears, I swear.”

Alan jerked back.  Eric’s voice, but not Eric.  Never had Alan heard the reaper so… hopeless.  So desperate.  Moving forward again, Will’s cold voice came crisp and clear.

“I will not say it again, Mr. Slingby.  Mr. Humphries is no longer your concern.  Your mentorship is over.”

This time Alan drew back slowly, as if in a dream.  He stared at the bronze door handle, not seeing it, not seeing anything, only hearing the words.

_“Mr. Humphries is no longer your concern.  Your mentorship is over.”_

He stood and back away in a daze.  The handle turned and Alan spun, running down the hall toward the lift.  He heard Eric call after him, but the only words that were clear were the ones that played in his head, over and over, like a broken record as he hit the lift button and slipped inside.

_“Mr. Humphries is no longer your concern.  Your mentorship is over….  Your mentorship is over….  Your mentorship is over….”_

He escaped the lift running, and his feet pounded the floor to the exit, playing a dreadful beat to the words that wouldn’t leave his mind.

I _IIIIII_ I

“Alan!”

Eric watched as the young reaper fled down the hall and vanished around the corner.  “Alan…”

“Emotions are not a part of a reaper’s job,” Will said from the office doorway.  “You know that as well as any of us, Eric.”

“Better than most,” Eric murmured.

“Then you fully understand my decision to place Alan back under Mr. Eccles’ teachings.”  Will sighed. “And I do think it would be best for him to move out of your flat to avoid any complications.  Please try to understand and not cause any more issues. I’m beyond my usual amount of overtime as it is.”

The door closed behind the reaper, leaving Eric standing at the end of the empty hallway.  He wondered where Alan had gone.

“What the hell would I say to him anyway?” Eric muttered, going to his own office.  He sat down behind his desk and stared at the closed door.  Minutes passed and he found himself unconsciously reaching into his shirt pocket.  But he had removed the cigarettes at home.  Turning in his chair he opened the small cabinet beside the desk.  From the back he drew out a small clear decanter.  Inside, amber liquid sloshed against the walls, as if it strained to get free of its crystal prison.

“To... something,” he muttered, taking the stopper out.  “What do I have to toast?”

 _‘Absolutely nothing,’_ he thought, pressing the rim of the bottle to his lips.

I _IIIIII_ I

When the knock came on his door, Eric grunted in reply and it opened to reveal Mr. Eccles.

“I’ve come to see Alan,” the teacher said.

“He’s not here, obviously,” Eric answered.

Eccles looked at him, sitting with his top buttons and tie undone, feet on his desk and bottle in his hand.  It was nearly empty.  “Resorting to your habits?” he asked.

Eric didn’t answer and when Eccles spoke, his voice held pity more than anything else. “Do you know where I might find Alan?”

“He left a while ago,” Eric said, glancing blearily at the clock.  It now read five ‘o’ clock.  “Didn’t say a word to me.”

“I suppose I’d better go find him,” Eccles said.

“I suppose you’d better,” growled Eric, taking another drink from the bottle.  Eccles backed out without another word and Eric groaned, tipping his head back.  The ceiling lights glared at him like angry spirits and he closed his eyes against them

 _“Why don’t you go find Alan?”_ they asked.

“What’s the point?” Eric grunted.

_“He would search for you if your roles were reversed.”_

“Ah, shut up.”

_“You know he would…”_

“I said shut up!” Eric sat up with a jerk, and Alan leapt back with a yelp.  Eric rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. “Huh?”

“I think you were asleep,” Alan whispered warily.

Eric groaned and looked at the clock. “Half past eight…”  He turned to Alan. “Mr. Eccles was looking for you.”

“He found me,” Alan replied, sitting in the chair opposite.  “He told me he was going to be teaching me and that I should probably move into a dorm flat again.”

Eric leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table.  “I see…”

Alan was looking at his hands. “I… I really liked living with you,” he said. “It finally felt like I was home again.”

“Well it isn’t gonna feel that way anymore,” Eric said, and Alan looked up, a pained expression on his face.

“We… we’ll still see each other, Mr. Eric!  Won’t we?  I mean… we’re… friends, right?”

The panicked hope in Alan’s voice stabbed Eric like a scythe.  He looked up for a second, and then turned away.  “Ah, what’s the point…”

“What’s the…?” Alan sounded appalled. “You don’t mean that!”

“I…”  Eric frowned.  No, forget it, forget him.  It wasn’t working, it never would have. “I do mean it.”

Alan stood up, fists clenched. “Eric!  I don’t understand!”

“Course you don’t,” Eric muttered, picking up the bottle.

Alan’s voice was trembling with fury. “What happened to caring about each other? What about what you said in the car?”

Eric didn’t have a reply so he took a drink instead. 

“Is that your solution? Pout and drink it all away?”  Alan’s voice was sarcastic, a thing Eric never knew could happen.  “Oh, yeah, that’s real smart!”

“Quiet,” Eric said, a spark of anger rising in his chest.

“What is wrong with you?”

“You’re just a kid,” Eric growled.

Alan gave a cry of anger and yanked the bottle from Eric’s grasp, smashing it to the floor.  “And you’re an idiot!”

A drunken anger blinded Eric in a surge of power.  He burst from his chair, his arm shooting out, fingers gripping Alan’s collar to yank him forward.  “Watch your mouth, Humphries!” he roared, fury exploding inside of him.

“Eric!”

Alan’s terrified gasp shattered Eric like he was made of glass.  He stared downward, and Alan’s expression was enough to make him want to reap himself with his own death scythe.  His hand opened and Alan staggered backwards, bumping into the chair.  Eric stood there, arms hanging at his sides.

“Get out,” he whispered. “They’re right. I shouldn’t even come near you…”

“Eric,” Alan said in a soft tone, but Eric turned and faced the wall, putting his hands against it to steady himself.

“No, Alan.  Go.”

A moment later he heard the door click shut.  Turning back to face the room, Eric’s gaze went to his hand.  He could still feel it closing around Alan’s shirt. All at once his legs wouldn’t support him anymore and he dropped to his knees.

“Alan,” he whispered to the room, but only silence answered.


	11. At a 90 Degree Angle

“We’re going to splitting into two groups for this reading session.  Everyone on the right half of room will form a group and the same goes for the left.”

In the corner, Alan rose to his feet and walked forward to join his classmates.  They had already gathered their chairs into a circle and he brought his to the outside and sat down.

“This is a fascinating topic,” one of them was saying.  Alan didn’t know their names; all the students he had been with formerly had moved on while he was in the infirmary.

“I think death scythes are boring,” said another, opening his book.

“I just like seeing the graduated reapers' personally modified ones.  Mr. Sutcliff’s is so cool!”

 _‘_ Mrs _. Sutcliff, you mean,’_ Alan thought, opening his own book to page 43.  _‘She prefers the feminine title.’_

“Alright,” said a young woman. “I’m going to read now, so listen.  ‘While collecting a soul, there are many angles at which a death scythe may have to be used, depending on the situation of the dying human.  Typically, a human will die on their backs, so the most common approach is a swift downward strike.  Come at a 90 degree angle to-.”

“Actually,” Alan interrupted. “That’s incorrect.”

The other students looked at him.  “What?” asked the woman.

All their eyes on him, Alan took a breath. “Well, it’s not completely incorrect, but I’ve found that how a reaper collects a soul is very dependent on the reaper.  Since every reaper is different, and generally has a unique type of scythe, the precise angle of the reaping is going to be altered for each.”

“However, there is a basic guideline for all collections, isn’t there?” came a voice, and Alan looked up to see Eccles standing behind him.

“I guess there would be, sir, but to state precise directions is to trap the mind into believing it’s a far simpler task than it really is.”

As he spoke, he saw the teacher’s shoulder rise and fall in an almost undetectable sigh.  “Mr. Humphries, could I talk with you in the hall, please?”  He looked at the other students. “Do continue.”

“Yes, sir,” Alan mumbled quietly, pushing back his chair and following Eccles to the door.  Behind him, he could hear the young woman begin to read from the book once again.

When they were in the hall Eccles turned to Alan and shook his head.  “This has to stop.”

Alan didn’t reply, only looked straight ahead at the door across the hall.  Eccles sighed loudly. “Alan, for the past two days all you’ve done is contradict everything your teachers have tried to tell you.”

“Because I know what it’s really like,” Alan said. “I saw it happen!  Books didn’t see it happen.”

“Their authors did,” Eccles reminded him.  “Now, I don’t know exactly what Mr. Slingby was teaching you, but-.”

“Not how to reap at a 90 degree angle,” Alan muttered.

Eccles pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes.  “Alan.  If you don’t sit down and try to learn the way we’re teaching, you are never going to be qualified as a reaper, do you understand?  Reaper’s have been known to fail their test, you know.  Best case scenario, they admit to it and get sent someplace else, though I’m not sure anyone knows where.”

“That’s best case?” Alan asked.

“Worst case is they become a rogue.”  Eccles shook his head. “And let me warm you, Alan; rogues are hunted down and their punishment is…. Well, it is severe, to say the very least.”

 “I apologize,” Alan said quietly. “I’ll try to learn from you.”

Eccles looked relieved. “Thank you, Alan. Now let’s go and rejoin your classmates.”

He held the door open, but as Alan walked through he only felt heavier, like the weight of his sorrow was pushing him down.

I _IIIIII_ I

His bed wasn’t comfortable.  His sheets weren’t right, the pillowcase felt rough and the room smelled wrong.  The familiar scent of Eric’s house was gone from the air, but when he buried his face in his shirt, he could almost taste it.

He had never gone back to the flat.  He didn’t have a single possession in the dorm flat he was in but his bag of supplies that he had had in Eric’s office.  He had worn the same set of clothes for the past three days, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back home.  The conversation would be awful…

_‘Any conversation would be better than none at all.  I need to see him.  I need to talk to him!’_

Morning dawned slowly and hours before class was due to begin, Alan was up and out of the flat, running down the walk toward the Dispatch Building.  The lift took forever to arrive and when he reached Eric’s office, panting, hands on knees, stopping to catch his breath, his heart was pounding, though not from the run.

“Eric!” he called, knocking on the wood. “It’s me!  Please talk to me!”

“He’s out.”

Alan spun to see Will Spears walking toward him. “Out?”

“Working,” the reaper answered.  “That’s all he’s done the past three days.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Alan asked, but Will shook his head.

“He’s hasn’t been coming back in the evenings, as far as I know.  Probably getting wasted in some tavern like he used to.” The reaper clicked his tongue disapprovingly and adjusted his glasses. “Honestly…”  Then he moved on to his office, leaving Alan standing in the corridor alone.

 _‘Out collecting,’_ he thought.  _‘I… I need to find him.  I could wait at the flat but I want to catch him before he goes out to a tavern.  He could be anywhere.  I would never be allowed to see the schedule.  How can I…?’_

He needed someone’s help, and has far as he knew, there was only one person willing to do it for him.

I _IIIIII_ I

“You want to see the schedule?”  Grell stared at Alan over her collection folder.   “You know that’s against the rules, right?”

“I just want to know where I can find Eric- Mr. Slingby,” Alan said.  “That’s all.”  He was panting again, having caught up with the red reaper just as she walked out of the Dispatch Building.

“Hm…” Grell tapped her chin, frowning.  “You could get in real trouble. So could I.”

Alan wondered when the last time was that she had cared about getting into trouble, but refrained from speaking his thoughts out loud. “I won’t say a word about you,” he promised. “It was all me.”

Grell glanced at him through half closed lids. “You’re really all torn up about this, aren’t you?”

 _‘You have no idea...’_ “Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you.” Grell flipped through her book.  “I actually have him marked in my book today.  There was a skirmish in the human world.  Humans; always killing each other.  We’re both on retrieval duty in heavy casualty zones.  Hmm…”  She stopped suddenly, tapping the page with her finger. “Here we go.  This is the place.  Take a look.”

Alan quickly memorized the address and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Sutcliff!”

“Happy to help,” Grell said, but before Alan could walk away, she took his arm.  “A word of advice.  Careful how you handle this. It’s not every day you get your hands on a handsome man like Eric Slingby.”

Alan blushed. “Oh, no!  I-.”

Grell winked and pushed him away. “Of course not.  Now go on and get him!”

Alan hurried down the walk, flushing red as Grell waved after him, then he broke into a run and headed for the bridge.

I _IIIIII_ I

The wagon squeaked down the dirt road and the driver pulled the old horse to a halt under a tall oak tree. Two more men were standing underneath it.

“What the hell happened here?” asked the driver.

“The Cussler Gang hideout was discovered by the police,” answered one of the men.  “There was a massive shootout in the city.”

“The other half ran out here and hid in the barn,” piped up the second fellow.   “The law lit it up when they wouldn’t come out.  Got some of their boys taken down by snipers inside first.”

“Damn shame for the family farm,” the wagon driver said.  “That was a new barn.”

Alan rose up on his knees in the back of the wagon, and swallowed hard at the sight before.  Not half a mile away orange flames sent roiling clouds of smoke into the sky.  Several police vans were in a tight circle around the structure.  Even from here Alan could see the figures of the police as they moved their wounded comrades, and heard them as they called to one another and to the men inside the barn.

“Any of the thugs come out yet?” asked the driver.

The men shook their heads. “Nope. They’re going down in flames.”

The popping of guns sounded through the air over the crackle of fires and Alan ducked instinctively.  The driver looked back at him. “Well, kid, this is as far as you can go.”

“Thank you for the ride.”  Alan slid off the back of the wagon and walked past the horse, continuing down the road.

“Hey!” one of the men cried, “You can’t go down there!”

Alan didn’t reply, but took off at a fast jog toward a small stand of trees.  He heard the men calling after him, but they didn’t follow as he cut across a field and found refuge in the grove.  Finding a tree with low branches, he pulled himself up and peered into the field.

The barn was completely engulfed in flames now, and looked like it would collapse at any moment. The police were again calling for the gang’s surrender, and this time the doors opened.  But the men didn’t come out with their hands up.

More gunshots cracked and Alan clung to the tree, his fingers digging into the bark as the sharp noise sounded through the air.  The fight didn’t last long; and soon all the gangsters were lying in the smoking grass and the police officers were putting their pistols and rifles away.

That’s when Alan saw Eric.

The reaper was standing in the doorway of the barn and, as he took a step forward, the first wooden beam crashed to the ground behind him, sending up a wild flurry of sparks.  Alan jumped when it fell, but Eric simply stood with his thumb hooked in his belt, scythe propped on his shoulder as he surveyed the bodies before him.  Then he lifted his scythe and Alan’s heart skipped a beat.

The way Eric collected the souls of the dying men was like no retrieval he had seen before.  There was none of Grell’s reckless swipes, but nor was there Hayze’s delicate cut.  Not even Thom’s easy way was apparent in Eric’s movement.  The way he drew his scythe across the men’s chests was cold and exact.  He knew precisely where he was hitting and his actions were so flawless Alan felt like he was watching a carefully rehearsed performance. 

A _Danse Macabre_...  A Dance of Death.

For the first time since he had become a reaper, Alan did not feel sorrow while watching a collection.  He felt awe.

 _‘How can I ever do that?’_ he thought.  _‘So efficient, so fantastic…  He is marvelous…’_ With a soft sigh, Alan slid down out of the tree.  _‘I shouldn’t get in his way.’_ Walking out of the grove he looked back over his shoulder once; then turned and hurried away toward London.

As the barn crumbled behind him, Eric studied the flowing records and then dismissed them.  Pulling out his binder, he turned to the correct page.

“Barnaby Steel.  Cause of death; lung failure from numerous bullet wounds.  Nothing to report.”

He stamped the page and turned to the next one.

“Clause Jones.  Blood loss from numerous bullet wounds to the stomach.  Nothing to report.”

Eric lifted the stamp again but a movement caught his eye.  He didn’t know why he noticed the distant figure on the road, what with the firelight glinting of his glasses and the police still moving and shouting to one another, about to come over to the bodies he stood by.

“Huh?” he wondered, frowning, but the figure was gone, vanishing down the road as smoke curled in his face, obscuring his vision.  “Probably a local,” he muttered, glancing back at his binder.

But he couldn’t help but wonder at the tight feeling in his chest.

I _IIIIII_ I

“What are you doing here?”

Alan glanced up as Grell sat down on the bench beside him.  “Just relaxing,” he answered, looking back at the pond before them.

Grell followed his gaze to the family of ducks that floated in the center of the water, then glanced back at him. “What happened to finding Eric?”

“I found him,” Alan said. “But he was busy.”

“Well, obviously,” Grell said. “He’s working.  Why should that stop you from talking to him?  I talk to Will all the time when he’s busy.”

Alan shifted on the park bench.  “I don’t know…”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Grell said, tapping her nails on the arm of the bench.  “Hearts are confusing, but they never lie. Not deep inside.”

Alan sighed and leaned back.  “Do you turn everything into a love story, Mrs. Sutcliff?”

“Only the things that deserve it,” Grell said with a smile, winking at him.

Alan wasn’t sure how to respond, but was saved an awkward reply by someone calling Grell’s name.  Both reapers turned to find Will standing on the hill behind them, tapping his watch.

“We’ll be late for our appointment, Grell!”

Grell rolled her eyes and stood.  “He refuses to call then dates.”  Hooking her purse over her shoulder, she half closed her eyes and studied Will. “But his stubbornness only makes him more attractive.”

 _‘It would to you,’_ Alan thought, and Grell turned to him.

“You and Eric both need to stop being stubborn,” she said.  “Embrace your feelings for each other!  Just let it all flow!”

“Grell Sutcliff!  If we are late for our reservations-!”

“Coming, darling!” Grell trilled.  “Goodbye, Alan.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Sutcliff,” Alan said as she headed up the hill. “Have a good evening.”

“Make yours a good one too!” she called back as she reached Will.  He held out his arm for her and they walked away toward his car together.  Alan turned back to the pond to find the ducks had drifted to the opposite side.

“Make it a good evening?” Alan said to the empty park.  “I don’t think I can…”


	12. Reassigned

“Alright, class dismissed.”

Alan looked up.  In front of him, the other students were hastily finishing their papers and gathering their things.  Alan glanced down at the half done paper on his desk.  Like many of his recent works, this one was sloppily written and had doodles of flowers around the border.

With a sigh, Alan signed his name on the top of the paper and put the pencil in his satchel.  Standing up from his desk he slowly picked up the bag and adjusted the strap, waiting for the other students to head toward the door.  He didn’t want to be caught up in the group outside the door like when he had left his last class.

As he walked up to Mr. Eccles desk to drop his paper off, he saw a newer student hurriedly pushing his way past the students in the door and go up to the teacher.  The student handed Eccles a folded piece of paper and the teacher opened it.  A frown creasing his face, he said something quietly to the student, who nodded and left.

Alan reached the desk and set his half-finished paper on the surface.  He was about to go to the door when Eccle’s voice stopped him.

“Alan.”

“Sir?” Alan asked wearily, turning back around.  He knew his work was unacceptable, and he was far too tired to prepare himself for the lecture that was sure to come.

But Eccles hadn’t picked up his paper.  He was still holding the note the other student had brought him and the look on the teacher’s face was one of frustration, something that piqued Alan’s curiosity.

“I’ve just received a note from Mr. Spears,” Eccles said, “asking if we would report to his office at 3 ‘o’ clock.”

Alan glanced at the clock.   It was 2:55 now.  Eccles gathered up the papers on his desk and put them in a drawer, then picked up his satchel.  “If we hurry, we should make it on time.”

Alan followed Eccles out the door without a word, but inside he was dizzy with questions. Why did Mr. Spears want to see them? Both of them?  And at the same time? Was this about his lessons? He was falling behind miserably, he knew.  Why had Eccles looked so frustrated when he read the note?

 _‘You won’t get any answers until we reach Mr. Spears’ office,’_ he thought as they left the academy and headed toward the Dispatch Building.  As he hurried to keep up with Eccles, he looked at the teacher’s face.  The frustration was still there and Eccles’s mouth was drawn into a tight line, his eyebrows furrowed.

 _‘Something has made him very unhappy,’_ Alan thought.

At 3:05 they trotted up to William T. Spears’ office door and Eccles knocked.

“Enter,” Will’s usual cold tone replied, and Eccles opened the door.

“Mr. Eccles, have a seat,” Will said.  His gaze turned to Alan.  “Mr. Humphries, please wait outside.”  The reaper pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “And please do not eavesdrop this time.”

Alan blushed and backed out of the office, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he stood awkwardly, unsure what to do.  He had no idea how long this conversation was going to take.  Already feeling impatient, he glanced around.

From down the hall, Eric’s office door stared at him.

Turning away from it, Alan looked at the potted plant someone had put in the corner.  Moving to it, he crouched and touched the browning stem.  Whoever had placed it here hadn’t been taking care of it very well; its leaves were drooping and the dirt in the pot was like dust between his fingers.

“Wish I had some water to give you,” Alan said, rubbing a leaf between his fingers.  He straightened and looked at Will’s door, which was still closed.  A prickle went down his spine and he looked down the hall.

What if Eric was in?

Alan took a few hesitant steps toward the office, glanced back at Will’s door to make sure it was still shut tight, and hurried the short distance to Eric’s office.  Lifting his hand, he hesitated.  Their last interaction was still clear in his mind, and he paused for a long moment, considering.  Then, with a determined breath, he knocked.

The rap was quiet and, after no answer, Alan tried again, louder this time.  Still no reply from within.  Biting his lip, he placed his hand on the knob.

The door creaked slightly as he opened it and peered inside.  Disappointment washed over him as his eyes swept across the empty room.  Eric wasn’t here after all, but just seeing the familiar place made Alan feel lighter, and he stepped farther in.  The office was a jumbly mess as usual, and Alan picked up the loose papers that scattered the floor and brought them over to the desk.  He ran a hand over the back of the chair he would sit in, usually with his feet tucked underneath as he frowned at the book before him.

Eric always said that school books were a waste of time, but there were a few files every student was required to read, mainly history of humans and different retrieval reports.

“I don’t understand these graphs at all,” Alan would sigh, slumping back in his chair and staring at the papers scattered in front of him.  From the other side of the desk, Eric would look up from whatever file he was working on and reach across to turn the paper toward himself.

“What’s the problem?”

“Well,” Alan would say, “If everyone is assigned to a certain amount of souls a month, what’s with all the extra lines here?”  He pointed to the paper. “And the human world is always changing, there isn’t any guarantee of what the next month will bring.”

“Exactly,” Eric answered. “That’s what these extra lines are telling us.  Since there is no knowing what will happen, we have to try and compensate.”

He would then look at Alan’s bewildered expression, chuckle, and stand, grabbing his coat as he did. “Come on,” he would say. “Let’s go downstairs and you can see how they plan it all out in person.”

They often went to experience the operations of a reaper’s job firsthand.  Eric said it was far better to do something than to simply read of how to do it, and Alan agreed.

Replaying the memories in his head now, Alan smiled.  Setting down the papers he had gathered up, he started to turn back to the door when something that caught his eye.

In a corner, on a cabinet, was his notebook, the one he had forgotten the day he had left Eric’s mentorship.  It was standing upright, the pages opened to reveal one of the drawings inside.  Alan walked over and looked up.  As he recognized the drawing, his heart skipped a beat and he unconsciously lifted a hand, as if to caress the emotion he was feeling.

 _‘White Daffodil,’_ he thought.  _‘The Sun Shines When I’m with You…’_

Turning to face the rest of the office, Alan felt as if his heart was being held in a tight grip, and he sat down suddenly in Eric’s chair.

“Eric,” he whispered. “Eric, please… Just to talk to you again… that’s all I want.”

“Mr. Humphries?’

Alan jumped as Will’s voice called to him from the hall.  He quickly left the office and closed the door.  Both Will and Eccles were standing by Will’s office.

“What were you doing?” Eccles asked.

“I…” Alan doubted they would understand his want, his _need_ to see Eric so badly.  “I was getting something I had left in Mr. Slingby’s office.”

“Mr. Eccles and I are finished.  I would like to talk to you now,” Will said, motioning toward his office.  “We won’t be long,” he said to Eccles.  “You may go, if you like.”

As Alan passed Eccles, he saw the same frustration was still in his face, this time mixed with a little sorrow, and Alan wondered what Will was going to say to him.  As he sat down in the chair across from Will, he had to tell himself to keep calm.

“Mr. Humphries,” Will said, picking up a sheet of paper, “It has come to my attention that your progress is less than what is expected if you.”

“Yes, Mr. Spears,” Alan said, but nothing more.

Will adjusted his glasses. “You make no statement that you will try harder?”

Alan hesitated.  Will didn’t seem particularly angry, but then again, the reaper never gave away much of his emotions.  After long seconds of silence, Alan answered honestly. “No, sir, I do not.”

Will nodded slowly. “Indeed.”  He took a file from a drawer and set it on the desk.  “Mr. Humphries, we cannot tolerate less than expected progress from students. We need reapers who can do their job diligently and without issue.  Since you have returned to the standard teaching methods we offer, it had become very clear to me that you will not meet these expectations.”

As Will spoke, Alan’s clasped hands tightened and he was aware of sweat beading on his forehead.  In a flash of alarm he recalled what Eccles had said.

_“Reaper’s have been known to fail their test, you know.  Best case scenario, they admit to it and get sent someplace else, though I’m not sure anyone knows where.”_

_‘What if Mr. Spears doesn’t even let me take my test and I get sent away… I would never see Eric again!  I would never get to tell him that I-.’_

“This file has all the information you need,” Will said, breaking into his thoughts.  With shaking fingers, Alan took the file Will pushed toward him.  The front was blank and he opened it, dreading the contents.

The first paper stated something about expectations of a reaper, but the piece that stuck out from behind it caught Alan’s eye at once.  He recognized the top half of the name peaking at him and he drew it out, heart beating faster as he did so.

“I am assigning you a mentor,” Will said, clasping his hands on the desk. “I believe you two are already acquainted.”  He was looking toward the door and Alan twisted in his chair, the papers in his hands fluttering to the ground.

Alan’s emotions had never switched so drastically so quickly before and it left him dizzy as he stared at the tall figure standing in the office doorway.  An overwhelming rush of joy was surging through him as he pushed back the chair and stood, taking a quick step forward, and then hesitated.

“Alan,” Eric said, looking like he wanted to rush forward but was too embarrassed to do so. “Alan, I’m s-.”

Before he could finish, Alan had collided with his chest so hard the tall reaper had to take a step back to retain his balance.  Alan gripped Eric’s coat until his fingers hurt. “I don’t need an apology,” he said with a sob, “I just need you!”

Eric took in a shaky breath and didn’t hesitate; crushing Alan in a hug so tight the smaller reaper gasped for breath, and then let out an emotion filled laugh. 

“I need-,” Eric said, his voice cracking. “I need you too, Alan.”

“I need you two out of my office,” Will said, looking at his watch.  “I have another meeting in five minutes.”

“Sorry,” Eric said, releasing Alan, who stepped away and removed his glasses, hurriedly wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.  “We’ll get out of your way.”  He knelt to the ground and scooped up the file Alan had dropped, then straightened and they left the office together.

Alan’s heart felt so light he wanted to laugh out loud, something he hadn’t felt like doing in a while.  He smiled up at Eric, not even sure what to say.  He knew if he spoke he wouldn’t be able to convey what he was feeling inside.  He wondered if Eric felt the same way, and when the reaper grinned back at him, opened his mouth, closed it again and squeezed Alan’s shoulder, Alan knew he did.

As they reached the lift, a voice stopped them.

“Alan.”

Alan turned to see Eccles standing behind him.  The teacher’s expression was resigned and he glanced at Eric. “I…  I’m not sure I understand Mr. Spears or Mr. Slingby’s way of thinking,” he said.

Alan began to speak, but Eccles held up a hand. “However, I know I cannot give you the proper amount of education, and perhaps Mr. Slingby can.  I was the one who first suggested you have a personal mentor, after all.”

Alan blinked, shocked, as Eccles turned away.  Eccles had suggested he needed a mentor? All along he had thought Will had made that decision.  From the look on Eric’s face, he had thought the same.  The tall reaper furrowed his brow for a moment, then his face cleared and a small smile appeared on his face.

“Eccles,” he said, and the teacher turned back.  Eric held out his hand and Eccles looked at it, surprised. “I guess I’d better thank you,” Eric continued. “Thanks to you, I met Alan.  Nothing’s made me happier in my entire existence, and it’s because of you that I have this chance to have such a special person in my life.”

Alan pressed a hand to his mouth, his eyes misting over again.  The look of surprise fled from Eccles face and for the first time he looked at Eric with an expression of respect. “I didn’t know you had such a flowery speech, Mr. Slingby,” he said, taking Eric’s hand.  “It’s a side I’ve never seen.”

“You’d be surprised at how many sides I have,” Eric said as they shook.  “And I have a feeling I’d be surprised at yours.”

Eccles nodded with a smile and Alan put his hand over his heart and bowed to the teacher. “Thank you, Mr. Eccles,” he said. “I… can’t express…”  He blushed as he stumbled over the words and Eccles took his hand.

“You’re welcome, Alan,” he said softly. “It’s my pleasure.”

The teacher headed down the hall with a wave and Eric casually saluted to him.  Then the tall reaper pressed the lift button and looked to Alan. “Ready to head home?”

“I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again,” Alan sighed, and Eric chuckled.

“I’ve kept the house clean,” he said. “Well, mostly.”

“I don’t care if it’s messy!” Alan said as they entered the lift.  “I’m just happy to be going home.”

Eric hit the ground floor button and the doors slid shut. “And I’m just happy to have you coming home.”

I _IIIIII_ I

When Alan stepped out of Eric’s car, the first thing he noticed was the sweet smell of flowers.  Smiling, he went to the gate and opened it, going into the yard.  In neat beds under the house windows bright flowers bloomed and Alan went to them, running his fingers over the soft petals.

“You took care of them,” he said as Eric entered the yard.

“‘Course I did,” the tall reaper said. “You spent a lot of time putting those little guys in the ground.  And look.”  He pointed to one of the violets.  “Your friend stuck around.”

Turning his gaze to the purple flowers, Alan recognized the blue butterfly at once.  Fluttering beside it was another butterfly, this one with light lavender wings.

“I think he found a girlfriend,” Eric said, opening the front door.

“Good,” Alan said. “He needed someone to keep him company.”  As he followed Eric into the house and up the steps, he declared, “I think I am going to plant more flowers along the fence.  And see if I can finally nurse that tree back to full health.”

“If anyone can get that poor thing back to normal, it’s you,” Eric said, turning the key in the flat door.  “I was afraid I was going to kill the flowers just by watering them.”

“You can help me with the next beds, if you want,” Alan replied, hanging up his coat.  “We’ll have to buy some plants though.”

“I can when I go to London tomorrow,” Eric said. “But you need to tell me what to get.”  The reaper tossed his bag on the kitchen counter and turned to face Alan. “However…”

“However…?” Alan asked, hanging his own satchel on the back of a chair at the wooden table and coming over to the island.

“Let’s focus on the deadline,” Eric said. He sat down at the table and reached into his bag, pulling out an envelope.  Opening it, he took out a piece of paper and unfolded it.  “Alan Humphries, your test will begin on May 25th.”

“May 25th?” Alan gasped, sitting down across from Eric.

“‘You will receive the details of your test on that date from the Department Manager’,” Eric read.  “‘Please arrive promptly at 10:00 am’.”  The reaper folded the paper and slid it back into the envelope. “So, we’ve got a very short time to get you one hundred percent prepared.”

“I’ve fallen so far behind,” Alan said, despair filling him. “I’ll never be ready.”

“Don’t be like that,” Eric said, standing. “You haven’t forgotten anything, have you?”

Alan shook his head and Eric nodded, satisfied, “See?  You’ve got all the information, now we just need to polish it off.  How are you feeling?”

Alan knew what this question meant.  He thought back to when he had seen Eric collect and he knew the last thing he wanted was to disappoint his mentor.  Alan pushed back his stool and stood, squaring his shoulders. “Fine,” he answered.  “I feel fine.”


	13. Sam

“See, in my case,” Thom said, opening the car door, “since I’ve got a two handled branch lopper, I sometimes use both hands.  A lot of reapers think that’s a disadvantage, but I’ve found it all depends on your style.”

“I like your scythe,” Alan said, looking at the device in Thom’s hand.  “The blade’s pretty small; it must take some skill.”

“I always liked learning about death scythes,” Thom said. “Maybe I sucked in some extra knowledge.”  He shut the car door behind him and nodded to Eric. “Thanks for the ride home, Mr. Slingby.”

“We were in London anyway,” Eric said, waving his hand.  “No big deal.”

“So have you thought about what sort of death scythe you want?” Thom asked Alan.  The younger reaper shook his head.

“No, I haven’t yet.”

“Alan wants a chainsaw like Grell,” Eric said, locking the car.

“I do not!” Alan protested seriously. Then he smiled, realizing Eric was joking. “I don’t think I could lift it.”

“I held it once or twice,” Eric said, propping his own scythe on his shoulder and heading down the walk toward the Dispatch Building.  “It’s pretty heavy.  Now I know how Grell keeps that body she’s got without working out.”

“Must have taken a heck a lot of paperwork to get a scythe that big and powerful,” Thom said, absentmindedly swinging his own tool.  “I’m surprised it was approved.”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure it was,” Eric said. “But no one’s gonna complain about it.  And if Will knows, he’s hasn’t done anything about it.”

“‘If you remind Sutcliff what she’s doing wrong, you may as well write your name on the To Die List’,” Thom quoted, and Alan looked at him.

“Is that actually a saying?”

“It’s written on a sign hanging in General Affairs,” Eric said with a laugh. “Someone hung it there once and it’s stayed up ever since.  Come on, I’ll show you.”

He led the way through the front doors and down a hall.  General Affairs was a large section of the building where death scythes were taken care of, schedules for the day were picked up, and paperwork was turned in.  Alan had found it to be a dizzying hub of activity even in the slowest parts of the day.  They walked in to the main room where a line of reapers behind windows were busily working, talking to retrieval reapers and doing paperwork.

“There,” Eric said, pointing to one of the walls.  A white sign with red lettering hung there, and Alan shook his head. “I can’t believe no one has taken it down!”

“They’ve tried,” Thom said with a smirk. “Someone always put it back, so they gave up trying to remove it.”

“Does anyone know who did it?” Alan asked.

“No one,” Eric said. “It’s been there for years though.”

“I think...,” Thom started, but suddenly his voice trailed off, and Alan turned to him.

“What do you think?” the reaper asked, but Thom didn’t answer, staring across the room.  Both Eric and Alan looked, but only saw the usual reapers coming and going.  Then a student standing by one of the windows caught Alan’s eye.  She looked young, younger than Alan, not even out of her teenage years.  She was going over a sheaf of papers with another reaper, and looked confused, but it was her appearance that had drawn Alan’s gaze.  She was Indian, like Thom, and had the same curved nose.  Alan glanced at his friend, who hadn’t moved, still frozen and staring at the other reaper in shock.

“Thom?” he asked.  “What’s the matter?  Do you know her?”

Eric’s hand rested gently on his shoulder.  “Alan…,” the tall reaper said in a soft voice, “If he does, then…”

It hit Alan then, the meaning of Eric’s words.  He drew in a breath and lifted his hand to touch Thom’s arm, but pulled it back.  _‘If he knows her, then someone he knew in his past has…_ ’

“Thom,” Eric said, and his tone was quiet but serious.

“ _Why_?”

The word ripped from Thom, and Alan flinched, his eyes widening.  Never before had he heard a word spoken in such agony as this, tearing through the room like a bullet.

The student looked up, as did most of the other reapers in the area, but while their faces showed confusion, the student’s quickly changed to horror.

“No!” she cried. “You weren’t supposed to see me!”

A torrent on emotions flickered over Thom’s face, and suddenly he moved, taking off at a run toward the student.  Eric swiped at the reaper’s sleeve but missed.  “Thom!” he said, “Stop!”

“Thom!” cried Alan, rushing forward.   Thom gripped the student’s collar with both hands, shaking her.

“You fool!  You fool!” he screamed, tears pouring down his cheeks, his nose inches from the other’s face.  “Why the hell didn’t you let me know you were here?”

“I-I,” the student gasped, gripping Thom’s wrists.  Her eyes were wet as well and she coughed, struggling to get the words out. “I didn’t-!”

Thom stared at the student, eyes wide.  Behind him, Alan and Eric stood silently, and the student looked down.

“I didn’t want you to know,” she mumbled.  “I knew you wanted me to be happy and I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Thom’s fingers uncurled from the student’s collar as if on their own accord, and his expression was still rigid.  There was a painful moment of nothing, in which Alan could hear the silence screaming, and the agony filled the room like smog.  He desperately wished he could speak to Thom, but the dead stillness of the reaper’s face stopped him, and he stood frozen like all the others.

Then Thom’s lips moved, his jaw trembled as he choked out the name. “Sammy,” he sobbed, dragging the student close against his chest.  At first the younger reaper was stiff, her face confused, but then her eyes closed and she sank into Thom’s embrace.  All around them, the other reapers let out relieved puffs of breath and continued about their business.  Alan let out a sigh and glanced over at Eric.  The tall reaper pushed his hair out his eyes and sent a reassuring look back.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl was saying, her voice muffled in Thom’s coat.  “I just… I didn’t want this.”

“Yeah,” Thom said.  “Yeah.”  He then took a deep breath and pulled back.  “But damn…  I don’t even…”  He looked around like he didn’t know what to do, and caught sight of Alan and Eric, still watching silently.

“Oh,” he said, as if he had just remembered they weren’t alone.  “Alan, Mr. Slingby, this is my younger sister...”  His voice cracked as he spoke and he coughed.  “My sister Samantha.”

“Sam,” the student said, extending her hand.  Alan and Eric shook it, and the tall reaper nodded. “I’ve seen you around,” he said.  “Heard you singing on the way to class.”

Sam managed a watery smile. “I like music…”

“I’d like to know what kind sometime,” Eric said, his easy tone a comforting sound.  “But right now, I think you should talk with your brother.”

Sam glanced at Thom, who shook his head.  “Why, Sam?  Why would you..?”

“I…” Sam started, but Eric stepped forward.

“Hey,” he said, “Remember the rules.”

“Right,” Thom said, “I forgot.  Sorry, Sammy.”

“I want to tell you,” Sam said, taking her brother’s arm. “I do!”

Eric put a hand on each of their shoulders.  “You can, but not here.  Go home.  Sam, if you get in trouble for missing class, tell your teacher I said it was okay and they should talk to me if they have any problem with it.”

Sam nodded and Thom put his arm around his sister’s shoulders.  “Thank you, Mr. Slingby,” he said.  Then they left, pressed close together as they walked away.

I _IIIIII_ I

That night, after Eric changed out of his suit into a more casual outfit, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and went to find Alan.  He found him sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking through the balcony doors at the sunset. Eric couldn’t help but think how cute Alan looked, cozy in his lavender sweater, hands folded in his lap.  The tall reaper wandered into the room and planted himself in the reclining chair, popping the bottle’s cap.  A small wisp of cold vapor curled out of the top and vanished in the sunbeams that shone in the air.

Eric debated speaking.  He wasn’t sure what Alan was thinking, but he had the idea it was about Thom and Sam.  He didn’t know what he would say anyway, so he took a drink and followed Alan’s gaze to the sky outside.

It was a brilliant canvas of colors at this time of day, the sunlight morphing and twisting in the atmosphere to create the brilliant streaks of color.  It bathed the city in red and orange, and reflected off the windows of the surrounding buildings, sending a golden glow filtering into the room.

“I can’t imagine…”

Eric glanced over as Alan spoke.  The reaper was still looking out the window, his glasses glinting in the light.

“I can’t imagine finding out that someone I love…” Alan shook his head.  “That they…”

“I know,” Eric said, taking another drink.  “It’s gotta be one of the worst feelings you could experience here.”

Alan turned his head to look at Eric.  “Have-?”  He cut off and quickly turned his face back to the window.

“Have what?” Eric asked, knowing full well what Alan had been about to ask.  The tall reaper didn’t blame him for being curious.

“Never mind,” Alan answered, leaning into the cushions.  “It’s nothing we need to talk about.”

Eric settled back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other.  He knew Alan would never dig deeper into his privacy.  No reaper would push for the answer to a question of that nature, and Eric had never dreamed he would be willing to reply.  But when Alan asked, he didn’t mind for some reason. 

“I’ve never run into anyone,” he said.  “There’s no one for me to run into.”  He looked at the bottle in his and tilted it, sending the liquid inside swirling into a tiny whirlpool.  “Everyone I knew was already dead.”

He didn’t mean for his words to come out so coarsely, but as the last rays of struggled to shine over the buildings, a soft sound made him look over at Alan.  The reaper had a hand against his mouth, struggling to stifle his tears, and Eric’s heart trembled at the sight.  He stood, with no doubt he would go to Alan’s side, but as he took a step, the other reaper quickly got to his feet.

“Alan,” Eric said, his pace faltering.  “I’m sorry.”

Alan shook his head, holding out a hand. “No, it’s not you.  It’s not you.”  The reaper fled the room and a moment later Eric heard the bedroom door shut.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said to the couch.  “I don’t want you to feel sad.  How can I stop you from feeling sad?”

The empty room yielded no answers and Eric dropped the empty bottle to the floor and went to bed.


	14. The Test Assignment

May 25th.  1:00 am.

Alan lay awake under the blankets, staring up at the dark ceiling, his mind in such turmoil it made sleep impossible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a reaper as nervous as you,” Eric had said earlier at dinner as he spooned peas into his mouth.  “Relax; you’ll do fine.”

“Will I?” Alan asked, stirring the peas and rice around in his bowl.

Eric had shoved his dish to the side and leaned forward. “Yes, Alan, I truly believe you will.  You’ve worked hard lately, harder than usual.”

“But we work in pairs, right?” Alan said. “So what if I get paired with someone…”

“Someone like me?” Eric asked, “Or Will?  Or even Grell?”

Alan had flushed and remained quiet.  Eric sat back and crossed his arms.  “Then that’s what it is. You’re different, but it doesn’t mean you can’t do just as well as anyone else.  You’ve got to understand that.”  He reached across and gripped Alan’s hand.  “I believe in you, Alan.  I have no doubts about you.”

Now Alan rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow.  “He believes in you,” he mumbled into the cloth. “Don’t disappoint him.”  Closing his eyes, he sighed.  He would never fall asleep…

“Alan?”

Alan lifted his head with a jerk.  “What?”

Eric was peering around the door. “Did you hear your alarm go off?”

Alan looked at the clock by his bed.  9:15 am. “Oh no!” he cried, throwing back the covers. 

Eric chuckled. “Must have been quite a deep sleep. I’ve got tea and toast, so hurry and get dressed!”

Quickly as he could, Alan stripped out of his pajamas, tossed on his clothes, and washed his face.  He met Eric in the kitchen and hurriedly drank a cup of tea and ate some only slightly charred toast with jam.

“You sure that’s enough to eat?” Eric asked.

“I don’t have time for anything else!” Alan said, throwing his satchel over his shoulder and running into the hall to put his shoes on.  Eric followed, tossing the car keys in his hand.

“Don’t worry; we’ll make it with time to spare,” the tall reaper reassured him, opening the door.  “Don’t forget your training scythe.”

“Oh, right!” Alan said, rushing back into the flat.  He went into his bedroom and picked up the simple scythe from his dresser.  It was standard training equipment, but for the first time Alan felt trepidation as he picked it up.  Soon this tool would collect a soul.

“Got it,” he said as he returned to the front hall.  The two reapers hurried down the steps and it was only when he was sitting in the passenger seat and Eric was driving toward the Dispatch Building that Alan was hit fully with what they day would bring.

 _‘Collecting a soul,’_ he thought, the first waves of terror rippling in his chest.  _‘I am going to be collecting a soul.’_

They arrived at Will’s office shortly, and Alan hesitated outside the door, glancing at Eric.  The tall reaper smiled at him

“Don’t worry; it’ll be fine!” Eric said.  “Didn’t I tell you that before?” 

Alan nodded and lifted his hand again, knocking on the wood.  A second later Will called out his usual ‘enter’ and Eric opened the door.

Standing in front of Will, Alan managed to calm his breathing, but his heart was still beating in a nervous, erratic manner.  Will shuffled some papers, and didn’t waste words.

“Alan Humphries, since you did not take the usual course of learning typical of a reaper, your score was not tallied in precise fashion.” Alan thought he saw Will cast an irritated look at Eric, who was leaning against the wall, wiping off his glasses. “However, from what I can see, you most likely fall into the category of an A average score.”

“A average?” Alan repeated. He glanced at Eric, who nodded.  A average wasn’t bad at all.  In fact, it was rather good.  Alan hadn’t dreamed he would receive a score like that.

“Yes, a rather high score considering your method of learning,” said Will.

Eric took the barb without comment; he only smiled a little.  Will coughed and opened a file.  “It was a rather good score…”

“Sir,” Alan asked, “pardon my interruption, but… am I doing this alone?  I thought that generally two students would take the test together.”

Will nodded. “I wanted to inform you of your scores first, Mr. Humphries.  You do indeed have a partner.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door.  “Enter,” Will called.

The door opened and Alan was surprised and pleased to see Thom step into the room.  He was closely followed by his sister Sam, who walked uncertainly to stand by Alan.  Thom bowed to Will.

“Morning, Mr. Spears.”

“If you and Mr. Slingby would leave us?” Will said, pointing a pencil at the door.  Thom headed toward the exit and Eric pushed away from the wall to follow.  As he passed Alan, he clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a nod and wink.  Alan nodded nervously back and cast a glance at Sam as the door shut after the two older reapers.  Sam sent a small smile back and the weight on Alan’s chest lifted a bit at the knowledge he would be working with someone he knew.  He and Eric had had the Danys siblings over a few times for dinner and Alan had found Sam to be quite a nice girl.  Outgoing and grinning, but with a plenty of kindness to go with it.  They had also learned that Sam enjoyed music, and Alan had been fascinated to find she was a lover of opera and musicals, and had often snuck into theaters when she was a kid to watch the shows.

“Your task is to collect one human soul,” Will said brusquely, getting right to it. “You must decide whether or not the human deserves the death they are scheduled for.  You have one month to do so, though you have the choice of bringing in your final result before your one month is up.”  Will took a folder from a stack and slid it forward.  “This is all the information about the target that you will need.”

Alan took the file and looked at it. The cover gave away no information about the human, and Alan dreaded opening it to see the face of the one he was supposed to eradicate.  _‘A human whose life is ended…’_

“Alan?”

Alan glanced up to see Sam looking at him.  “We can go now.”

“Oh,” Alan said, embarrassed to be caught up in his head. “Thank you, Mr. Spears.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spears,” Sam echoed, and Will nodded.

“Good luck.”

The two students went out into the hall, where both Eric and Thom were waiting, sitting on a bench, death scythes propped up beside them.  Alan looked at the shiny blades and a prickle ran down his spine.

_‘That.  That is what I will be using.  A death scythe to collect a soul…’_

He suddenly felt dizzy, and he gripped the file in his hands tighter to steady himself.  Eric rose to his feet as the students approached.  “Why don’t you sit down and take a look at your task?” he suggested, and Alan inwardly sighed, sinking down on the bench as his knees weakened.  He was ashamed of his insecurity, but determinedly tried not to show it.

“Alright,” he said, opening the folder, “Let’s see...”

Sam sat down next to him and looked over his shoulder as he turned back the cover.  The face looking back at them from the paper was middle-aged, with a friendly smile and a scruffy beard.

“David Johns,” Sam said, reading the name beside the picture.  “A baker in East London.”  She glanced up at Thom.  “I’ve had his cookies.  They’re delicious.”

Thom patted his sister on the back.  “Yeah, they are.  Now you’ve got a different business with him though.”

Alan and Sam looked at each other, and then looked down at the face of David Johns again.  The man who’s soul they would have to take.  Eric swung his death scythe up to prop it on his shoulder.  “I can drive you to London, if you want to get started right away.”

“Observation, right,” Alan said. “Yes, that would be fine with me.” He looked over at Sam, who nodded.

“We’d appreciate that, Mr. Slingby.”

Thom picked up his scythe. “Then I’ve got to get to work.”  He ruffled his sister’s long loose hair and Sam ducked with a good-natured laugh. “Good luck, Sammy,” he said, then looked to Alan and held out his hand.  “Good luck, Alan.  I know you’ll do fine.”

“Thanks, Thom!” Sam said with a smile. “We can do it!”

“Thank you, Thom,” Alan answered, shaking his friend’s hand.  Then the reaper walked away, sending a thumbs-up back to them before vanishing around the corner.  Eric shrugged his coat more comfortably around his shoulders and reached into his pocket, pulling out the car keys.

“Ready to go?”

 _‘Never,’_ Alan thought, but he sent a small smile at Eric and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then let’s hit the road,” the tall reaper said.

I _IIIIII_ I

_‘You are not ready, you liar.’_

Eric took his eyes off the Pathway for a moment to glance in the rearview mirror.  In it he could see Alan and Sam in the backseat, hunched over the folder, discussing their test subject. _‘You talk with Sam about retrieving a soul, you talk with Thom, you talk with me.  You stubbornly tell yourself you can do it and fool everyone into thinking you’re changed, now that you’ve gone through classes and seen retrievals.’_

Eric sent a look at the mirror again.  Sam was pointing to something in the folder while Alan jotted a few notes down in a notebook.  Eric frowned.

_‘You still feel the same way about collecting a soul and you know it.  I know it.  I don’t understand it, but I know you don’t feel the same way as the rest of us.’_

Eric stared out into the mist at the small patch of ground the headlights illuminated before the car, his troubled thoughts turning in his head.

_‘Us reapers… it’s our punishment and they tell us not to care about the human we retrieve a soul from.  And so we get angry at death, we hate it so our rage feels like a brand on our necks.  The cold cruelty of death overwhelms us, forcing us to see our decision was wrong…. What we do now is important, but to be surrounded by death as we are…  But you, you feel more than the hate and fear…’_

“Eric?” Alan asked, “Quick question?”

“Yeah?” the reaper replied, looking into the mirror. “What is it?”

“Do we have to keep notes while doing our test?”

“It’s optional,” Eric answered. “I didn’t, I and my partner just presented our folder at the end of the month and that was it.  But I know some students do take notes, to keep their progress clear to themselves or to help them make a decision.  It’s up to you.”

“Alright, thank you,” Alan replied, turning back to Sam.

“You’re welcome,” Eric answered. “Happy to help.”  He returned his focus to the Pathway, sinking back into his thoughts.  _‘Look at you… so professional at this job you can’t stand.  Can’t stand it even more than the rest of us…  What would it be like to care for the one you killed?  How does it feel?’_

Gripping the wheel tighter, Eric saw the light of the parking lot approaching.  _“I guess I’ll never know what it’s like to care for someone who is dying…’_

Pulling his car up into a space, his put it into park and turned off the engine. “Here we are,” he said, keeping his voice light.  He didn’t want his thoughts to inflict Alan and Sam the way they did him.  “You know where you’re going?”

“Got the address right here!” Sam said, holding up the folder as Alan opened the door.  “And I’ve been there before.”

Eric turned around, facing them. “Good luck.”

“Thanks!” Sam said, getting out.  Alan made to follow, and then paused.  “Eric…”

“It’s only the first day,” Eric said with a smile. “You’ve got a whole month.”

As he spoke he saw Alan’s brow furrow and jaw clench.  “I know,” the younger reaper said. “I just wanted to ask if there’s anything I should pick up tonight for dinner.”

“Whatever, I don’t care what we have,” Eric answered, and Alan nodded.

“Fine.  See you later.”

“I’ll pick you up at four!” Eric called as the reaper shut the door.  He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his head, letting out a breath. “Liar,” he muttered.  “I never care what we have for dinner.  That’s not what you were going to say.”

Alan and Sam had reached the lift and Eric smiled and waved as they got in. Sam waved back and so did Alan, but even from the distance, Eric could see Alan’s shoulders rise and fall in a deep steadying breath.  “Why are you so worried?” Eric asked as the lift rose up into the mist.  “You’re stronger than you realize.”


	15. Observation

“Alright,” Sam said, opening the folder as they walked down a lane. “658 Bennett Street.  Sweet Treats Bakery.  I used to go there a lot with Thom.  He’d buy these huge cookies that were bigger than my entire head! Well, that’s what it seemed like to six year old me…”

Alan wasn’t really listening to Sam’s rambling.  As they walked, he was breathing in the scent of London.  The hustle and bustle of the main streets, the ladies in their dresses and the men in their top hats, the children running in the streets after a pet dog or a stray cat.  One little girl, playing with her friends, slipped on a stone and fell to the ground.  Her lower lip trembled as she looked at her scraped hands.  Alan quickly moved to her side and crouched next to her, lifting her to her feet with a smile.

“Well, that was quite a tumble!” he said, “are you alright?”

The girl shied away at first, but when her gray eyes connected with his kind green ones she nodded. “Yes, sir, thank you.”

“Better catch up with your friends there,” Alan said, nodding at the group of children who had paused a few yards away and were looking back for her.  Alan adjusted the yellow braid on her shoulder and patted the top her head. “Go have fun!”

The girl bobbed her head enthusiastically, a smile blossoming on her face as she ran to catch up with her playmates.  Alan straightened, watching as the small group conversed momentarily and then darted off down the street, laughing and shrieking with joy.  A deep rush of emotions filled Alan’s chest, and he looked around at the rest of the people around him.

_‘Life has such warmth to it.  A warmth that defies death, if only for a short while.’_

“A flower, sir?”

Alan turned to see a girl standing behind him, a large basket in her arms filled with a number of blossoms.  They ranged in a rainbow of colors and Alan marveled at their beauty.

“They are gorgeous,” he said, gently brushing a rose with his fingertips. “But I’m afraid all the money I have is going toward dinner tonight.”

“Your attire is so dark, sir,” the girl said.  “I can’t bear it.”  She sorted through her flowers, searching. “Let me brighten your day.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t, not without paying,” Alan said, taken by her kindness. 

“Please,” the girl said, “It’s my sister you just pulled to her feet.  And she notorious for crying at scraped hands.  You must have a magic touch.”  Plucking a flower from her basket, she eyed it critically. “Yes, this one will do.”

Alan looked down as she tucked the blossom in his breast pocket.  Its bright purple color shone against the black and he touched it gently.  “Thank you, madam.”

“No trouble at all, sir,” the girl said with a smile.  Then she moved off down the street and Alan turned his gaze back to the flower on his chest.

“Lavender,” he said to himself.  “It’s lovely.”

“Alan!”

The reaper turned to see Sam hurrying toward him.  He made sure the flower was secure and turned to meet his partner.

Sam had a perplexed look on her face. “Where did you go?  I almost made it to the bakery before I realized I’d lost you!”

“I stopped to help a girl,” Alan said. “She tripped.”

“Where’d the flower come from?” Sam asked.

Alan touched the purple blossom. “The girl’s sister.  Sorry, Sam.  Let’s keep moving.”

When they reached the front of the bakery, the warmth Alan had experienced on the street had almost drained away completely.  Not even the cheerful storefront, filled with all sorts of delicious treats, could lighten the weight that was slowly settling back onto his chest.  Sam was consulting the folder.

“David Johns… Dies in one month exactly, right here at the bakery.”

“How?” Alan asked simply.  The bakery windows reflected the outside world and he couldn’t see the inside from where they were stationed on the opposite side of the street.  There had been no glimpse of Johns yet.

“Heart attack,” Sam answered.  “That’s all it says.  Doesn’t say if it happens right away or if he hangs on for a while, or what.”

As Sam studied the folder, Alan took a few steps forward, then a few more.  Soon he was across the street and peering in through the bakery windows.  Looking past the cakes and cookies and pastries delicately arranged in the window, he saw a cozy counter, where a woman was managing the customers’ needs.  A younger woman was helping her, taking money and boxing treats like it was second nature.

 _‘Mother and daughter?’_ Alan wondered.  _‘Johns’ family?  What will they feel when he dies?  How much will their hearts ache?’_

“Young man, you are fogging up my widows!”

Alan jumped back from the window, turning to stare at the large man who had stepped out of the bakery door. “Pardon me!” he said quickly.

The man laughed. “I’m only kidding!  There’s plenty of folks who look through that window and it don’t bother me a bit!  I’m just glad I can make them happy with my baking!”

Alan sighed, relived.  There was no doubt this was Johns.  His face was the one in folder, strong jawed and jovial with a scruffy beard.  He was a large man, both in build and belly, but conveyed a friendliness that Alan felt at once.

“See anything you like?” Johns asked, hands on hips.  Alan glanced back at the window. “Oh, I don’t know.  It all looks fantastic.”

“How about your friend?” Johns asked, and Alan turned to see Sam jogging up to them.

“I love your cookies!” Sam said.  “We’ll take two!”

A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting cross-legged on a nearby roof, overlooking the bakery, a giant cookie held by each.

“You were right,” Alan said, looking at the goody in his hands. “They are big.”

“Told ya they were,” Sam said, taking a large bite. “And just as delicious as ever!”

Alan took a small bite and had to agree.  It was one of the best sweets he had ever had and he took another bite.

“To bad he’ll be gone in a month,” Sam said suddenly, lowering her cookie.

Alan’s throat closed up and he looked down at the building below.  Inside, Johns was probably baking away, unaware that in a month, his death would greet him, accompanied by two reapers with shiny scythes.  All at once Alan didn’t want his cookie anymore and he folded it into a napkin and put it into his satchel.  Standing, he pulled out his notebook.

“Come on, we’ve got some work to get to.”

Sam looked up at him and Alan could feel her eyes searching his face. “Alan, you’re really into this all of a sudden.”

“This is the test,” Alan said stiffly.  “We’ve got to focus.”

_“It’s better to focus on the task then to loiter and let the pain sink in.’_

Sam brushed the crumbs from her coat and stood. “You’re right.  Sorry.  Let’s get to it.”

As the other reaper headed across the rooftop, Alan looked down at the notebook in his hands.  ‘David Johns’ was written across the top in his neat writing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the name, and then snapped it shut and shoved it into his satchel, following Sam across the roof.

_‘Don’t let the pain sink in.’_

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric picked up the two reapers promptly at four ‘o’ clock.  He asked how everything went and Sam eagerly relayed their observances.  Eric listened and nodded, but his concentration was mainly on Alan, who didn’t say a word, only read and reread the notes in his book.  After they dropped Sam off at Thom’s house, the car fell into silence.  Eric refrained from asking Alan any questions and the reaper didn’t release any answers.

The nonspeaking continued as they reached the flat and Alan brought the groceries into the kitchen and started dinner.  Eric changed into more comfortable clothing and sat at the island, watching as Alan finished frying a quiche.  The tall reaper tapped his fingers on the counter to the ticking of the wall clock and counted the seconds.  After a few minutes he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alan-.”

“How was work,” Alan asked brusquely, sprinkling cheese over the top of the quiche.

“Fine,” Eric said, surprised at the interruption, “but I’m not interested in my work.”

“Then what are you interested in?” Alan asked, keeping his eyes on the food.

Eric intertwined his fingers together on the countertop.  “I’m interested in how today was for you,” he said. “How your observation went.”

“You heard everything from Sam on the way back,” Alan said, taking two plates out and setting them on the counter.  Taking a knife he cut out two triangles of quiche.  “What else would you want to know?”

“I know how Sam felt about it,” Eric said, taking the plate Alan handed to him. “She thought it was sad Johns had to leave his family and his bakery, but we’ve got a job and she figures we can’t do anything about it.”

“That’s how she should feel,” Alan said.  He looked down at the food on his plate.  “You know, I’m not very hungry.”  Taking the plate, he put it in the refrigerator. “I’m going to bed.”

“Alan-.”

“Goodnight, Eric.”

“Alan…,” the tall reaper replied as the other’s door clicked shut.  Resting his forehead against his palm, Eric sighed. “…goodnight.”


	16. Pancakes

_Alan Humphries’ notes on David Johns._

_Day 2_

_…Johns has two children; a girl, older, and a boy only a year younger.  His wife is loving and enjoys the bakery nearly as much as he does.  She helps with the decorating of the cakes…_

_Day 4_

_…The daughter and son help with the decorating too, and the boy already wants to run the bakery when he grows up.  Johns had a passion about baking that rivals his love for his wife and family.  However, they understand completely and I think they feel the same way…_

_Day 10_

_…Sam thinks we need not observe Johns anymore.  She says it is unlikely Johns will contribute to the greater good of mankind and we can turn in our report now.  I want to wait a bit…_

_Day 12_

_…Johns often donates to the local charity and sends treats to orphanages at no charge.  Could this be enough to spare him from death?  Sam thinks not, but I am waiting to see if he does more good things…_

Alan closed his notebook and tipped his head against the back of the couch with a sigh.  Sam was right; Johns must die at his allotted time.  There was nothing to stop it from happening.  He was an ordinary man, living an ordinary life.

 _‘But most of us are ordinary,’_ Alan thought, letting his eyelids drift shut.  _‘That doesn’t make us any less special.  We’re all ordinary in our own unique way.’_

The sound of footsteps reached his ears and he opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling.   A few seconds later the front door opened.  Eric was home.  Well, he’d already heated up leftovers from last night, so there was no need for him to get up.  So he just closed his eyes again.

“Anyone home?”

Alan recognized the sound of Eric dropping his bag on the counter and heard his footsteps coming to the living room.  He was aware of the man’s presence and knew Eric was leaning against the doorframe, probably frowning at him.

“Hey.”

“Hello,” Alan replied, keeping his eyes shut.

He heard Eric let out a short breath.  “Alan, can we please talk?”

“About what?”

“About you!” The frustration in Eric’s usually calm tone was obvious.  “About how we haven’t really talked for almost two weeks.  You just come home, make some food and go to bed. Half the time you don’t even eat it.”

“I’m just not hungry lately,” Alan replied, and suddenly he felt Eric sit down next to him and take his wrist.  His eyes opened and he looked at the other reaper in surprise.

“Look at that!” Eric said, “You’re more like a twig than ever.  You’re getting thinner.  And that doesn’t excuse us not talking.”

Alan stared at his hand in Eric’s strong ones.  The older reaper rubbed his thumb against Alan’s pronounced wrists bones and the younger pulled away, hugging his arms against his chest.  He looked away across the room, hiding his face.

“It’s nothing,” he said.  “Really.”  He rose swiftly to his feet.  “Th-there’s food on the stove.”

He couldn’t help the stutter and he walked quickly toward the hall, keeping the rest of him stiff and collected.  He had only reached the doorway when Eric’s hand gripped his shoulders, spinning him around so they were face to face.  Alan’s gasped in protest, but Eric didn’t let go, his fingers pressing hard against his shoulders.

“Tell me, Alan,” Eric said.  “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” Alan whispered, his heart thumping in his chest.

“Cutting yourself off from me,” Eric replied.  “Acting all cold and indifferent?”

Alan wanted to look away, but Eric’s green eyes held his gaze and he couldn’t break free of them. “Isn’t that how we’re supposed to act?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”  Eric’s voice was quieter now, softer.  “I think we all feel a little differently about it.  But what I do know is that this certainly is not you.”

“Maybe what I am isn’t the right thing,” Alan said, his voice cracking.  He furiously tried to keep his gaze steady, but he could feel himself falling apart.  “God, Eric!  I can’t stop feeling for them!  I try to be like you, but every day I have to look at the man whose life I am going to end!”

His vision blurry, Alan pushed against Eric’s chest, trying to turn away, his entire body hot with shame.  Eric’s grip on his shoulders loosened, but instead of letting him go, the tall reaper pulled him closer, gathering Alan’s small frame against his strong body.  Alan resisted for a moment, but then sank into the hug, pressing his face into Eric’s coat.

“Why do they give us a month?” he moaned.  “Why can’t we just go and collect a soul right at the end of the human’s life, like we will when we start working like the rest of the reapers?”

“It’s just how it works, I guess,” Eric said gently, bowing his head over Alan’s.

In truth, Eric knew exactly why.  The test was a shocker, meant to drag the students out of their laid-back attitude they developed during their lessons.  Showing them that the souls they collect had a life, an existence before death. 

 _‘This is your punishment,’_ Eric thought.  _‘This is the punishment we all receive.’_ He hesitantly lifted a hand, then carefully stroked Alan’s hair, running his fingers through the feathery softness.  _‘But one as different as you… Do you really deserve it…?’_

I _IIIIII_ I

_Alan Humphries’ notes on David Johns._

_Day 15_

_…Johns’ has shown symptoms of his heart trouble. He breathes heavier and it takes him longer to do things…_

_Day 20_

_…Mrs. Johns’ wants her husband to go to the hospital.  Johns’ refuses.  He says he’s fine…_

_Day 25_

_…Sam and I have both come to the conclusion that Johns’ soul should be collected on the upcoming date of his death.  We turned in our decision to Mr. Spears and he approved it.  Now all we have to do is make the collection…_

_Day 29_

_Tomorrow Sam and I will collect David John’s soul at approximately noon._

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan didn’t want to get out of bed.  He knew if he got out of bed, he would have to eat breakfast. Then he would have to get dressed and pass the long hours doing something to distract himself.  Then he would go to London and collect the soul of a kind baker who would die at noon today. As the day’s schedule played in his mind, he could feel his doubt lurking in the shadows of the room, reaching out with clawed fingers to touch him.  Shivering, his pulled the sheets up to his chin.

“But that’s a reaper’s job,” he said out loud. “And you’re a reaper.”

Throwing back the covers, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid his feet into the slippers on the floor.  The clock said 6:30. 

“Five and a half hours,” he said.  “Only five and a half hours…”

Ever since Eric had confronted him about his changed behavior, Alan had dropped the indifferent act.  Truthfully, being himself made him feel much better than he thought it would.

“Face your fears as yourself, never as someone else,” Eric had said the night before over dinner.

Opening the closet, Alan chose his lavender cardigan and put it on over his pajamas.  He didn’t know how, but Eric always seemed to know exactly what he was feeling.  The thought made him feel warm and fluffy inside as he walked to the kitchen.  He hadn’t known he would experience such a connection with someone.  But there was Eric, and there was no denying the precious feelings Alan harbored for the older reaper.

When he reached the kitchen, Alan was surprised to find Eric standing at the stove, flipping pancakes.  The reaper walked to the cabinet, pulling down his usual blue mug and setting it on the counter.  Filling the teapot with water, he went to the stove.

“You’re up early,” he said, placing the pot behind Eric’s pan.

“Thought that I would make you some breakfast today for a change,” Eric said.

Alan looked at the pan.  The pancakes frying there were oddly lumpy and he estimated about two cups too much oil in the pan.  The cakes sitting beside the stove on a plate varied from burnt to a crisp to oozing undercooked batter, and all of a sudden his dismal morning became a shade brighter.

“Looks delicious,” he said.  Eric cast a sideways glance at him.

“Humor?  At 6:40 in the morning?  How does your brain do it?”

“It’s early for you, not me,” Alan said.  “And really, they’re not that bad.”

“Sure…”

“Really,” Alan said, lifting a few of the cakes up. “See? These aren’t too unappetizing.”

“I’m a master chef,” Eric said, flipping the cakes in the pan.  The oil sizzled and splattered across the counter.  Alan shook his head and put an edible pancake on his plate.  Picking out a fork, he sat down at the table and watched as Eric made an even bigger mess.  More batter was dripping onto the counter than actually getting into the pan.

 _‘You are hopeless at cooking,’_ Alan thought, taking a bite of pancake.  _‘The food doesn’t taste too bad, but the mess you make is awful.’_ Alan wasn’t surprised to find that the thought of having to clean batter from the stovetop didn’t bother him.  Seeing Eric cooking in an apron was far too fun to worry about work that would take place afterward.

The teapot began to whistle and Eric turned the flame off.  “Chamomile tea?”

“Yes, please,” Alan replied and Eric grabbed the jar of dried flowers, taking out the right amount in a tea infuser and putting it into Alan’s cup.  He picked up the pot from the stove and turned to the table, pouring the hot water into the mig.

“Thank you,” Alan said, blowing on the tea to cool it.  “Your pancakes are burning.”

“Crap!” Eric turned to see his pancake going up in smoke, along with the oil.  He grabbed the entire pan and dumped it into the sink.  Alan jumped up.

“You’ll ruin the pipes!” he cried, rushing to turn the water on.  The entire sink sizzled as the cold hit the hot and a billowing cloud of steam rose up, obscuring most of the kitchen.

“And _that_ is why I don’t cook,” Eric said, coughing.

Alan smiled.  He could hardly see Eric, and he reached out until he found the reaper’s arm.  “The one I had was delicious,” he said.

Eric laughed. “One out of twenty!  A new record for me.  At least you got to eat something before you go out.”

The steam was dispersing and both reapers took off their glasses, wiping the lenses free of water. Eric shook his head. “Well, that was exciting.”

Alan glanced up, but Eric’s face was blurred.  He put his glasses back on and blinked a few times.  “Quite a distracting morning.”

Eric looked shrewdly at him.  “Quite.”

Alan smiled. “It has made me feel better.  I needed a distraction.”  He turned his gaze to the clock on the wall. “I should get dressed.  I want to do some gardening before I leave.”

Eric gazed about at the messy kitchen. “I’ll clean this up…”

As Alan moved toward the hall, Eric called to him, “Alan.”

“Yes?” the reaper turned and looked back.

“Don’t think too hard, alright?”

Alan nodded. “I won’t.”


	17. Bells of Ireland

Four hours after Eric burned the pancakes, Alan sat back on his heels and studied the ground before him.  The line of daffodils waved gently in the breeze and Alan took off his wide brimmed sunhat, wiping a hand across his forehead.  He enjoyed the cool wind for a moment.  It was a treat after working in the hot sun for the past few hours.  Gardening was a curious way to distract himself.  Thoughts always invaded his head like bees in a beehive when he gardened. But something about the air, the plants, the sun… it made everything seem brighter.

Putting his hat back on and rising to his feet, he looked around the yard.

“Daffodils in, weeds pulled around the roses and lavender, tree mostly trimmed…”

He had gotten a lot done and was satisfied with it.  The sad tree in the corner had never looked better, Eric had said, and Hayze had admitted he had never dreamed the scrawny thing could perk up so much.

“That’s Alan’s magic touch,” Eric had said.  “He’s got a way with plants.  It’s like they talk to him.”

“They do, in a fashion,” Alan had replied.  “Just not in words we understand.”

The reaper bent down and picked a sprig of mint.  Twirling it between his fingers, he nodded with pleasure at the strong green stem and prickly leaves.  Putting one on his tongue, he enjoyed the tingly flavor.  Moving to the tree, he touched the trunk.  For a long while after he started nursing it back to health he had been afraid his actions were futile, and the tree would never make it.  But now there were little green leaves on the ends of the twigs and the branches were supple, not brittle as they had been.

Alan had been overjoyed to find a bird’s nest in one of the crooks a while back.  He had been sitting on the balcony when a robin landed near him.

“Hello,” Alan said, carefully still so as not to startle it.  “How are you?”

“Who are you talking to?” Eric had called from the hall.

“This robin. Don’t move fast,” Alan answered.  Eric came to stand in the doorway and they both watched the bird hop about for a moment before taking flight.  Alan stood and went to the rail. “I can’t see where he went.”

“He’s in the tree,” Eric said, pointing and Alan followed his finger and, sure enough, saw the robin on a high branch.

“Oh look!” he said suddenly, a smile breaking on his face. “There’s a nest!”

“And there’s the mama,” Eric reported as a second robin swooped down to alight on the edge of the nest.  “Looks like we’re sharing the yard with a family.”

“I can’t wait for chicks,” Alan sighed.

From that day on he had checked the nest every day, until one morning started the stretch of the mama robin sitting unmoving on the nest.

“She’s cooking those eggs,” Eric would say every evening when Alan sat on the balcony to watch the robins and other various birds that entered the yard.  And soon enough they got a glimpse of the light blue eggs themselves.

“When are those babies coming?” Eric asked one afternoon.  That night they had come home to three bald little chicks.

“I feel like we’re relatives or something,” Alan said one night, watching as the papa robin brought the babies food. 

Eric nodded and leaned over the rail. “Don’t you worry Mr. and Mrs. Robin,” he called. “Uncles Eric and Alan are here to keep an extra eye or two on your babies!”

Now Alan looked up into the branches.  The nest was a perfect home for the little family, tucked in the branches..  He couldn’t see it from where he stood, but here knew they were up there, hidden in the young leaves.

As he stood looking upwards, Eric walked out onto the balcony, buttoning up his shirt.  The older reaper never did the top button of his shirts and Alan wasn’t sure if that made Eric seem sloppy or roguish.  When he had pointed it out the first time, Eric had stated that wrapping himself up in a suit everyday was a nightmare and made him feel stiff and enclosed. 

“That’s also why you keep your tie loose and refuse to wear a waistcoat?” Alan asked.

Eric smiled.  “And because it makes me look better,” he said with a wink.

Alan secretly had to admit he agreed with Eric on that bit, though he was surprised Will hadn’t forced him into work attire that fit the management’s standards.  He assumed it was because Eric was so good at his job, Will had to allow him some leniency.

“We should leave in fifteen minutes or so,” Eric called down.

“I’ll be in in a minute,” Alan replied, turning to gather up his tools.  He put them away in a crate Eric had found somewhere and set in a corner of the yard.  Then he went in and washed up, quickly got changed, collected his things and followed Eric to the car.

Their first stop would be to pick Sam up.  Alan kept his eyes out the window as they drove the short distance to Thom’s house.  The morning had been surprisingly nice, but not twenty minutes out of the garden and already the sun’s warmth had faded, dispelled by the anxious feeling in his chest.

_ ‘First soul,’  _ he thought.  _ ‘First of many…’ _

The thought had hardly had a chance to consume his brain when Eric was pulling up in front of Thom’s house and Sam was waving from the window.  When she vanished from view, Eric turned to Alan.

“Hey, listen to me,” the reaper said, speaking quickly.  “I want to tell you something before they get out here.”

Alan turned to look at Eric. “Yes?” he asked, wondering what his mentor had to say.

“You’re going to do good,” Eric said, reaching over and squeezing Alan’s hand.  “Really good, you hear?  You know why?”

“Why?”  Alan could see Sam and Thom exiting the house over Eric’s shoulder.

“Because you’re you,” Eric answered.  “I know it sounds corny, but it’s true.  And don’t give me that look,” he scolded, seeing Alan’s disbelieving expression. “I know you don’t believe it sometimes, but you’re as capable as the rest of us.”

The younger reaper shrugged and Eric shook his head. “Hey, don’t doubt yourself.”

Sam tapped on the window and Eric turned, removing his hand from Alan’s as he unlocked the door.  Alan rubbed his hands together, wishing Eric’s warmth would stay on his cold fingers forever.  Sam opened the back door and slid inside.

“Hi!” she said.  “Can Thom hitch a ride? He needs to go to work.”

“Don’t we all?” Eric chuckled. “Hop in, Danys.”

“Thanks,” Thom said, as Sam scooted over to make room for him.  “It’s faster than biking over the bridge.”

“How are you two today?” Sam asked, buckling her seatbelt as Eric pulled away from the curb.

“We’re fine,” Eric said, looking at Alan.  “Right?”

The Danys’ siblings’ warm manner was certainly making Alan feel more at ease and he nodded.  “Right.”

“So, how are your flowers growing, Alan?” Thom asked.

Alan smiled.  Of course Thom would ask about his garden.  It was something he knew would be a distraction from the test.  “They’re blooming perfectly,” answered Alan. “But you were just over a few days ago; you saw them.”

Thom laughed. “True, but I won’t pretend to be an expert on plants. They could be hit with the plague and I’d look at them and say ‘Oh, they look lovely today, Alan’!”

“That’s because your brain is pea sized,” Sam said, poking her brother in the arm.

The cheerful mood kept up as Eric drove, and before they knew it, the car was pulling into the lot and they had to get out.  As the group headed toward the lift, a rumble came from the mist and Eric cautioned the others back.

A blaze of red roared past them and Alan could feel gravel fly up from the tires.  He held an arm up to protect his face and coughed at the dust cloud the vehicle left in its wake.

“Devil driver!”  Eric yelled as the dust settled and the engine died.  “Trying to run us over?”

“Just your mouth, Eric!” Grell said, opening the car door and stepping out.  “I didn’t get this car by running over people’s toes.”

And what a car it was.  Alan had thought Eric’s car was flashy, but Grell’s cherry red convertible was almost as flamboyant as the reaper herself.  Next to him, Thom made a sort of gasping choking sound and Alan tuned to see him staring at the car.

“Are you alright?” he asked, Thom nodded.

“It’s so awesome,” he said, and Grell patted the side.

“It wasn’t easy getting this baby.  You like cars?”

“He loves mechanics,” Sam answered.  “It’s an obsession.”

“Maybe we could go for a spin sometime,” Grell said, and a grin flashed over Thom’s face.

“Really?”

“Only if you promise not to crash,” Eric cut in.  “And stay at a reasonable speed.”

“Where’s the fun in following the rules, hon?” Grell asked.  “”And who are you to quote the guidebook?”

Alan could tell this was a frequent conversation topic between the two reapers and while there was no real anger, a spark of rivalry was electric in the air.

Thom had torn his gaze from the car now and was looking at his watch. “Hey, you two,” he said, looking to Alan and Sam, “you’d better get going.”

“Oh, right,” Sam said, and Alan realized he had forgotten the reason they were here.

“We can walk with you to the end of the bridge,” Eric said, turning away from Grell.  “I’ll wait there until you’re ready to go back home.”

“And I’ll be back in time to meet you at the Dispatch Building,” Thom said.  “But we’d better hurry.”

Grell went with them as well, and they all crammed into the lift.  The walk down the last stretch of bridge was mostly quiet, with Grell and Eric talking about something or other, but even the Danys siblings were uncommonly silent, and Alan didn’t say a word, quietly composing himself for the task to come.

When they parted at the end of the bridge, Alan turned to look at Eric.  The others were moving ahead, but he hung back, hesitating.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, or what he desired to hear, but he needed something.

“Don’t forget what I said in the car,” Eric said, and Alan stuck his hands in his pockets, looking down.

“I’ll try not to.”

“Don’t just try,” Eric replied.  “Here.”

Alan lifted his gaze as Eric pulled something from his underneath his coat.  He took the green plant, slightly drooping from being out of water, and a warm feeling grew in his chest.  “Bells of Ireland?” he said, and Eric nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

“I hope I got it right,” the tall reaper said.

“‘Good luck’,” Alan said, touching the small bowl shaped greens.  “It means ‘good luck’.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” Eric said with a smile and Alan’s throat closed up; he didn’t know what to do.  He felt he would start to cry if he tried to convey the emotion he was feeling.

“You-,” he began, but Sam’s voice cut through the air at that moment.

“Alan?  Where are you?”

“He’s coming!” Eric called back.  “You’d better get going,” he said, stepping back onto the bridge.

Alan nodded.  “Y-yes… I…”

“Al-an!”

“Coming!” Alan called, not wanting to take his eyes off of Eric.  The tall reaper smiled and tossed him a salute.

“See ya later, Alligator.”

“Bye,” Alan replied, turning to follow the others.   _ ‘Why didn’t I say something a little nicer?’  _ he thought, tucking the Bells of Ireland into the inner pocket of his coat as he caught up with Sam and Thom.   _ ‘A pleasant ‘thank you’ would have worked!” _

“There you are,” Sam said. “You okay?”

“Perfectly,” Alan answered a bit too readily.

“Alright then,” Thom said, “I’ll leave you two to it.”

“Bye, Thom,” Sam said, hugging her brother.  And for the first time, Alan saw her look truly anxious.  Thom held her especially tight for a long moment and when he stepped back, he had a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, soon enough you’ll be back and then we can get some late lunch, alright?”

“‘Kay,” Sam said in an abnormally sober tone and when Thom ruffled her hair she didn’t even duck. 

“Good luck, Sammy.”  The reaper turned to Alan, and slapped him gently on the shoulder.  “Same to you, man.”

“Thank you, Thom,” Alan answered.  _ ‘Why is it easier to thank you than it is to thank Eric?  Is it because, while I am grateful for your support, Eric touches somewhere deeper…?’ _

Embarrassed by his own thoughts, Alan brought his attention back to the real world and waved with Sam as Thom headed off down the street.  When the reaper was gone, the two students made eye contact for a brief moment, then set off in their own direction.  A direction that was more than North or South, East or West, but one that was leading them to a definitive crossroads in their existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for dragging Alan and Sam's test out! I just don't really want this to be a suuuuper long chapter. Next chapter, things will happen, I promise.


	18. The Test

The bakery was closed when they arrived, and they stood across the street, looking at the darkened windows.

“It’s already happened,” Sam said, nervously rubbed her hands together.  “The heart attack.”

Alan nodded.  “He must be in there now…”

“Fading away,” Sam said.  She bit her lip.  “I… I guess we’d better go in…”

Alan glanced at his watch.  It read 11:58 and his heart flip-flopped.  They were about to do it.  Collect their first human soul and sever its body’s connection to the living.  A wave of nausea washed over Alan, but Sam was already walking toward the bakery and he followed on shaky legs.

The front of the store was empty, no one standing behind the counter or restocking the shelves with cakes, cookies and other delicacies.  Alan took a deep breath, hoping to steady his nerves, but while the scent of sugar was powerful in the air, it couldn’t mask the ever consuming smell of death.

Voices were apparent beyond a door directly behind the counter, leading the two students around the display stand.  Now a few inches of wood were the only thing standing between them and their final task.  More than anything Alan wished he did not have to open that door.

The handle mocked him as he looked at it, scorning for being reluctant to touch it, and Alan frowned.  Did he deserve that?  Perhaps, but he did not want it.

“A-Alan,” Sam suddenly whispered, putting her hand over his as he reached for the knob.  “I’m scared.”

Alan lifted his eyes to her face, surprised.  He had become accustomed to the Danys’ laid-back ways, and Thom’s mannerism about the simplicity of his test was something Alan had never forgotten.  He had assumed Sam would be the same way.

“All this last month,” he said, “You never seemed…”

“I didn’t think it would be this bad.”  Sam wrapped her arms around herself and looked away.

It hit Alan then, in a shockwave of emotions, that Sam was just as afraid as he was.  He stared at his hand on the doorknob and the bronze between his fingers stared back.  Catching his reflection in the shiny surface, he looked at his face.

 _‘I am afraid,’_ he thought.   _‘I am sickened at the thought of this task.  But I am also saddened by it....’_

Standing in the dim room, Alan could feel the fear that bound him and Sam together.  The silence grew and suddenly a clock on the wall began to chime.  Both students and jumped and looked up at the hands on the face as they moved the final distance to mark the 12 ‘o’ clock hour.

“Did we fail?” Sam asked, tears running down her cheeks.

Alan’s gaze returned to the knob under his hand.  He frowned; eyes narrowing at the clock struck a second time.  “‘You can’t just go out and reap souls.  It’s a mindset.’”

“What?” Sam asked, confusion and shame lacing her words.

“Eric, said something to me when we first met,” Alan said. _‘I will never forget those words.  So empowering I wrote them in my notebook and read them every night.’_

“He said it’s a mindset.  That it is our job, but it’s also a necessity of existence.”  Alan felt his heart beat faster as he spoke, and the clock chimed for the fourth time.  All he had learned, all he had struggled through had led to this.  What would he be if he failed?  Failed Sam as a partner, failed Eccles as a teacher?  And what if he failed Eric as a mentor, and failed him as a friend?

“I will never give you reason to be disappointed in me,” Alan whispered, slipping a hand inside of his coat to touch the Bells of Ireland that rested there, safe and sound.  The reaper looked up to meet Sam’s gaze.

“This isn’t what we dreamed heaven would be,” he said, “but where in hell would you get the chance to make your brother proud?”

Sam let out a breath as the clock struck the sixth chime and nodded, drawing her training scythe from its place at her side.  Alan did the same and turned the knob.

The two reapers stepped into the room where Johns was stretched out on a couch, his family huddled around.  The man’s face was pale, his breathing labored and his wife’s hand was resting gently on his face.

Alan breathed in, the scent of death stinging his nose as he moved forward, Sam close at his side.  They moved between the wife and daughter, fingers tight around their scythes.

Sam looked at Alan and the reaper nodded.  He raised his scythe and brought it down in a fluid movement, the tip slicing into John’s chest with ease.  Sam’s scythe pierced beside it a moment later.

Alan closed his eyes, feeling the tool in his hand tremble.  He held the handle in a stronger grip as the soul was penetrated by their blades.  A few seconds later Alan stepped back and Sam followed suit.  As the scythes left the man’s body, they brought with them long strands of film, flickering and shaking as they slid from Johns’ chest.

Moving into the front room of the bakery, the clock struck for ninth time as the two reapers looked at cinematic record of the soul writhing and swirling in the air before them.

“It’s beautiful,” Sam whispered.

“It’s a life,” Alan replied, the enormity of the thing he was experiencing almost overwhelming him.

The clock chimed the eleventh time and Alan held out his scythe.  The souls spiraled out, dancing and glowing in the air.  Sam let her strand free and the soul glimmered at them.

“Farewell, Johns,” Alan said softly.  He drew his scythe back as the clock struck twelve, chiming as if it, too, was saying goodbye.   Sam set her blade against his and in one motion they brought the tools forward, hitting the soul in its center.

The last chime of the clock faded out to nothing.

There was a fantastic flash of light, and Alan felt a tug in his chest, like a hand gripping his soul.  He closed his eyes, an unearthly wind ruffling his hair and pulling on his clothes.

_‘He does not want to leave!  Oh, Johns, that you would have the willingness to go!  I would share your pain if I could!’_

The sensations lasted only a short moment, and when Alan slowly opened the eyes, the room was void of any breeze, and everything sat exactly as when they had first entered the bakery.

“W-we did it,” stammered Sam, her gaze scanning the room.  “Alan, we did it.  We passed!”

She jumped into the air and turned to Alan, hugging him tightly.  The reaper took a step back to balance himself, then hugged her back, but his eyes were still on the last place Johns’ soul had disappeared from.  Sam leaned back and smiled at him.

“Thank you, Alan. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We were partners in this,” Alan said, moving his gaze to her. “We did it together.”

Sam’s grin widened and she took his hand. “Come on. Let’s go back and get our folder stamped!”

Eric was reading a book when they arrived at the bridge.  He didn’t have to ask if they succeeded, the grin on Sam’s face as they approached was enough.

“I knew you could do it!” he said, slapping the girl a high five.  Then he turned to Alan and said in a quieter tone, “I knew you could do it.”

Alan allowed a shivery smile onto his face, but it vanished a few seconds later.  Eric put an arm around each of them, pulling them close.  “Let’s get you back to the Dispatch and have you qualified.”

“I can’t wait to get my new glasses,” Sam said, touching the round circles of glass on her face.  “I mean, these new recruit models are nice and all…”

“I feel you,” Eric said.  He looked at Alan. “Know what style you want?”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Alan replied.

Sam leaned around Eric. “Alan helped me back there. He really did.  I froze up and he talked me through it.”

“Did he?”  Eric cast another glance at Alan as they reached the lift.  Sam nodded. “Yes.  He was amazing.”

Alan tried to smile, but his heart wouldn’t let him.  He kept close to the warmth of Eric’s touch as long as he could, but when the tall reaper moved away to slide into the driver’s seat, a chilling cold settled over him.

The ride home was quiet, and Sam fell asleep in the back and started to snore, but the cold feeling stayed on Alan’s skin.  It didn’t lift when they left the Pathway and headed through the city, or when Eric parked outside the Dispatch Building and they headed up to Will’s office.

“Congratulations,” the senior reaper said, putting the stamp on their folder under Johns’ face.  “You have passed your test.  You are now fully qualified reapers.  You may go pick out your new glasses.”

“Thank you, sir!” Alan and Sam said simultaneously, bowing.  Will waved his hand.  “Yes, yes.  Go on now.”

When they left the office, Thom had joined Eric.  Sam ran into her brother’s arms and he laughed.  “See?  Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Thanks to Alan!” Sam said.

“What do you say to new glasses and then some lunch?” Thom asked.  He looked over at Eric and Alan. “Why don’t you two join us?”

“I’ve got work,” Eric said, “But, Alan, you can-.”

But Alan shook his head.  “Thank you,” he said, “but I’m going to take a walk.”

“You’re not even going to pick out new glasses?” Thom asked. “That’s one of the most significant parts of becoming a reaper.”

“I need to think about it,” Alan said, taking a few steps down the hall.  “There are so many kinds of glasses.  And I didn’t sleep much last night so I’m pretty tired…”

“We understand,” Thom said.

“Thanks again,” Sam added.

“You’re welcome,” Alan said.  His eyes flitted to Eric for a second before he turned and headed off down the hall, vanishing around the corner.  After trading farewells with Eric, Thom and Sam did the same, heading toward the elevator.  Eric drummed his fingers on the handle of his death scythe.

 _‘You just collected a soul,’_ he thought with a frown.   _‘What feelings are tearing you up from the inside right now?’_ He took a few steps toward the end of the hall.   _‘Should I try and talk to you?  Or let you be?’_ His uncertainty if he should stay and his willingness to go battled in his chest as he took another hesitant step forward.  “Dammit, Alan, why are you so confusing to me?  I can’t even get my feelings in order…  And I used to think I didn’t have any.”

Perhaps it was a mentoring instinct he had picked up, or something closer to his heart, but Eric knew he couldn’t let Alan just walk away.  Not if he was in pain.

“What sort of friend would I be?” Eric asked the empty hall, and set off at a fast trot down the corridor.

Opening his office door, Will watched the reaper hurry around the corner and shook his head.  “Honestly…  If that man skips any more work to be with Alan…”

Grell’s door opened farther down the hall and the red reaper stuck her head out. “You can’t deny love, darling.”

“Were you listening to me talk to myself again?” Will asked, irritated.

Grell smiled, and her sharp teeth glinted. “We’re tied by love; I can hear your thoughts.”

Will sighed.  “Please stop turning everything into a love story, Sutcliff.  Two reapers can have a close bond without falling in love.  Eric and Alan are an example.”

Grell waved her red nailed hand in the air.  “You just refuse to see what’s there,” she said. Placing a hand over her heart, she closed her eyes.  “You can feel it in the air, taste it on your tongue.  It’s a scent stronger than death, a connection that will overcome even that barrier.”  She half opened her eyes, glancing at Will.  “It did for us.”

The other reaper turned his head away.  “Please do not mention our past.  I did not want to come here, even if it may overcome death for a while.”

The second he spoke Will regretted the words.  Looking back to Grell, he saw she had no tears on her cheeks, but he knew that expression all too well.  His heart trembled with pain.  Going to her side, he touched her arm and she moved close, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Will!”

“Hush, you fool,” the reaper said softly, his fingers brushing her hair. “You have no need to apologize to me.  I was the one who subjected you to your emotions, made you regret being who you are.”

“Oh, don’t,” Grell said, stroking his jaw.  “We both had our faults.  We still do.  But at least now… we can have them together…”

Will rested his cheek on the top of her head.   _‘But darling… why couldn’t we have suffered through them as humans?  Instead we’re sentenced to this hell, where the darkness in our souls and the holes in our hearts only seem to deepen…’_


	19. Repercussion

Alan’s breath quickened as he ran through the main entrance of the Dispatch Building, dodging anyone in his path, almost dropping his satchel in his haste.  He pushed through a door and stumbled into the sunlight.  Walking a little ways down the walk, he rounded the corner and stepped onto the grass, leaning against the side of the building.

“You always try to hide from everything, Alan,” he said, looking at his shaking hands. “Even more foolishly, you try to hide things from others.”  Letting out a laugh that hurt his chest, he pushed his bangs away from his eyes and took off his glasses.  Wiping his eyes, he put the spectacles back on and cast a glance around the area.  There weren’t many reapers about, and certainly no one who would care that he cried.

“Alan?”

Alan looked up and around.  He recognized the voice.  Peering around the corner, he saw Eric standing at the building entrance, searching the faces that surrounded him.  Drawing back, Alan darted down the walk, away from the Dispatch.  He passed Eccles as he reached the corner, and the teacher smiled when he saw the other reaper.

“Alan!  How did your test-?”

“Sorry, sir,” Alan whispered, keeping his head down and moving swiftly by.  He knew if he stopped he would fall apart completely.  Eccles turned, confused, as the reaper sped past.  “Alan?”

Eric was about to turn right down the street when someone called his name.  Looking back, he saw Eccles hurrying down the walk toward him.  The teacher had a frown marring his face as he approached, and started speaking before he reached Eric’s side.

“Is something the matter with Alan?  How was his test?  He didn’t fail, did he?”

“Did you just see him?” Eric asked, and Eccles nodded.

“Yes, he passed me a moment ago around the building.”

Eric started toward where Eccles pointed, but the teacher caught his arm. “Eric, what’s wrong?  He’s failed, hasn’t he.”

“No,” Eric said, shaking his head.  He turned back and ran a hand through his hair. “In fact, his partner said he helped her get through it.”

“Then I don’t-?”

“Eccles, both you and I know Alan,” said Eric.  “We know how he feels about collecting souls and he just reaped his first.  It’s bound to hit him hard.”

Eccles nodded. “I suppose…  Should we talk to him?”

“I will,” Eric said.  “If he’s headed that way, then I’ll follow.”  The tall reaper patted the teacher on the arm. “Don’t worry about him.  I’ll talk to him and get him sorted out.”

“Alright,” Eccles nodded and Eric continued on down the walk, his steps turning into a jog as he rounded the corner.  Eccles stood in front of the doors for a moment, then sighed and entered the building.

I _IIIIII_ I

It only took a few guesses and some questioning before Eric knew where Alan was headed.

“He was just heading up the steps to your place as I left my flat,” Hayze said when Eric met him on the walk.  “Didn’t he have his test today?”

“Passed it,” Eric called back as he hurried on.

When he reached the house gate, he was acutely aware of how dismal the groaning of the hinges sounded.  Looking up at the windows, the reaper hoped Alan hadn’t left the flat.  Turning the door handle, he found it locked and pulled the key from his pocket.  As he turned it in the lock he glanced up at the balcony and saw the doors were closed; unusual if someone was home in this weather.  Alan enjoyed letting a breeze waft throughout the rooms.  Opening the door, Eric stepped inside.

“Alan?” he called, heading up the stairs to their flat.  There was no answer, but the door was unlocked and Eric pushed it open.  His eyes going to the floor, he didn’t see Alan’s shoes, and his coat wasn’t on the hook, but his satchel sat on the hall bench.

“Alan?”

He called his friend’s name again, moving into the kitchen.  It was dark and quiet, and so was the living room, so Eric deserted them, moving down the hall to the bedrooms.  Outside the bathroom door, his foot hit something on the floor and he looked down, recognizing Alan’s suit coat.  Opening the bathroom door, he switched on the light.

“Oh, Alan,” he said, looking down at the reaper, who was crouched with his head over the toilet, stomach heaving.  Kneeling, Eric shrugged off his coat and put his arm around Alan’s shoulders, pushing his wispy bangs back from his face.  “You okay?”

“It’s making me feel funny,” Alan said, the words coming out in a cough and a sob.  “I don’t understand.”

“What is?” Eric asked.

“D-death,” Alan said, his body lurching again, and Eric held him steady as he gagged.

“It makes everyone feel funny,” the tall reaper said gently.  “Everyone’s gone through what’s happening to you right now.”

“How do they stand it?” Alan gasped.  “How do you stop the sick feeling it leaves in in your stomach?”

“They just get more used to it, I guess,” Eric said, overcome with pity as Alan’s narrow shoulders shook under his hands. “Or just hide it.  Or try to chase it away with other sensations.”

Alan turned his head, looking sideways at Eric.  “Is that what you did?  Chase it away?”

“What tipped you off, the smoking or the bottles?”  Feeling Alan’s body become less rigid, Eric helped the reaper up to sit on the edge of the tub.  He took the hand towel from its place and wiped the corner of Alan’s mouth.

“I don’t want to keep feeling like this,” Alan said miserably, sitting with his shoulders hunched as Eric picked up his glasses from the floor and set them on the counter.

“You won’t,” he said. “Everyone comes to some terms, eventually.  It just takes a little while.”

“Everyone isn’t me,” Alan mumbled, closing his eyes.

Eric reached over and touched Alan’s cheek. “God, you’re warm,” he said, rising to his feet.  “Let’s get you to bed, eh?”

He helped to Alan to his feet, then after a moment’s thought, scooped the reaper up into his arms.  Alan’s didn’t even resist.  As he walked down the hall, Alan’s head tipped against his chest, and Eric could feel the reaper’s hot breath on his skin.

 _‘No matter how weak he may appear,’_ Eric though, pushing the bedroom door open with his toe, _‘he is no less than what I was after my test.  Everyone talks about how easy their test was but wait until they get home at night.  One will pace the room, punching the walls, another screams into a pillow, a third speaks not a word but stares upward as if in a trance.  One will sit and sob for hours while next door another blames everyone she knows, swearing she will never forgive.  I know one sat in an alleyway and drank himself into oblivion…’_

When he had passed his test, he had been ecstatic.  He had thought the hardest part was over; the lessons were done and now he could easily move onto the real job.  How wrong he was.  He could still remember running, as night fell, across the bridge into London, sneaking into a whiskey store and sitting in the alleyway out back with the pile of bottles.  No matter how hard he tried, the pale face of the golden haired woman wouldn’t leave his mind; he couldn’t unsee his scythe entering her delicate body.  Her life, imprinted on her cinematic record, flickered before his eyes and the only way to rid his mind of it was to drown himself in the alcohol.

Will had found him in the morning, and it was one of the only times Eric had seen pity on the reaper’s face.  Will wasn’t long out of the academy himself, but had ranked up through the positions faster than any reaper had before, and his mannerism was generally professional.

“Everyone’s gone through what you’re feeling right now,” he had said, crouching beside Eric, who struggled to lift his head.

“Not you,” Eric had mumbled, fingers finding the narrow neck of a bottle beside him.

Will removed the flask from his hand and nodded. “Oh yes, I did… I still do.  But profession is in the business so I just lock it up inside.”

“I’m… I’m not a lock it up kind of guy.”

“Then you’ll have to find another way.”  Will rose to his feet and held out his hand.  “Come on, Eric.  Get out of this place.”

Eric had taken the proffered hand, let Will haul him to his unstable feet and get him out of the alley.  But he had never really left.  He discovered that hellish place again when he found himself buying a pint after a collection.  It made him feel so good… washed away all of his pain… then left him experiencing it tenfold again in the morning.  The only thing that helped was another flask, another bottle, and the rolls of tobacco he became accustomed to having in his front pocket.

He knew some other reapers who had had his problem, and found ways to stop it.  One found a boyfriend, another started biking across the bridge everyday whether they had work or not, just to let the steam off.

“And I got Alan,” Eric said quietly.

“Hm?” the reaper mumbled as Eric set him on top of the bedcovers.

“Nothing,” Eric answered, unbuttoning Alan’s waistcoat.  “Where are your pajamas?”

“Bottom drawer.”  Alan lifted his head as Eric crossed to the tall dresser and opened the drawer, pulling out a long cream colored nightshirt.  As he went back to the bed, Alan pushed himself up with one arm, drawing back a bit when the reaper reached for him.

“Eric, I can do it…”

“You sure?” Eric asked, watching as Alan stubbornly pushed himself into a sitting position and held out his hands for the shirt.

“Yes,” he answered, and Eric handed him the pajama top and then moved toward the door.

“I’ll make some tea,” he said, stepping into the hall. “Just stay here; I’ll bring it.”

Once he reached the kitchen, Eric opened the window shade and turned on the overhead light.  The sun making the house and his mood a bit lighter, he began opening cabinets.  Familiar with Alan’s habits, he picked out the light blue mug.  Turning it over in his hand, he smiled briefly.

When Alan had first come to stay, he had very few things.  Clothing, notebooks, a few personal items, and not much else.  But, after a while, Eric had started to notice things, like how Alan always used the blue cup, or set out a smaller plate for himself while Eric preferred the larger ones.  His coat always hung on the third hook in the hall and now Eric had begun to put his on the fourth, when he remembered to hang it up at all.

“There are no teacups!” Alan would call from the kitchen and Eric would look up from whatever book he was reading in the living room.

“Your cup’s in the drying rack, I washed it this morning.”

Or while taking a shower, he would avoid using the gray towels and washcloths because he’d seen Alan use them several times before.

Alan’s cup, Alan’s towels, Alan’s hook…  Everything had settled into place since the reaper moved in, like it had all been hanging in space, waiting for the right change in the wind.

 _‘Sometimes I felt like I was hanging too,’_ Eric thought as he set the filled teapot on the stove and lit the flame.   _‘Not anymore though…’_

Taking the box of chamomile tea from the cabinet, Eric carefully measured out the right amount.  Alan has always said chamomile was a good stress reliever and calmed him down after a hard day.

Well, it had been a hard day, one of Alan’s hardest, so Eric thought chamomile was a good choice.

Making sure the tea was steeped fully; he carefully picked up the cup and headed back to the bedroom.  Slowly easing the door open, he asked, “Alan?”

There was no reply, and when Eric stepped in, a small smile grew on his face.

Alan was in his nightshirt, curled up on his side in the nest of blankets.  Moving to the bedside, Eric set the teacup down, his tense shoulders loosening as he looked at Alan’s peaceful form.

“Well, that’s one way to destress,” he whispered.  He debated for a moment about moving Alan under the sheets, but decided against it.  Instead, he gathered up the edges of the blankets and covered the reaper, then took a pillow and, very gently lifting Alan, put the cushion under his head.  Alan sighed and Eric froze, afraid he’d been too rough in his actions, but the reaper just turned his cheek to the pillow and nestled deeper under the blankets.

A contentment at Alan’s relaxed state filled Eric and he went to the windows, drawing the curtains, dimming the light entering the room to a hazy glow.  Then checking once again that Alan was asleep and well, he left the room, closing the door.  After a second he took a step back and opened the door again, just a crack, and then continued to the kitchen.

Standing in the sunny room, he hooked a thumb into his belt and reached up to his neck, loosening his tie even more than it already was and undoing the next button on his shirt.  Opening the refrigerator, he enjoyed the cool air wafting on his sweaty skin for a moment, then grabbed a beer and sat down at the island.

He had barely kicked off his shoes and gotten into his drink when there was a knock at the door.  Getting to his feet with a sigh, he walked down the hall and looked through the peephole.  A familiar reaper stood on the doormat and Eric opened the door.

“Hello, Eccles,” he said, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to see how Alan was doing.”  Eccles’ tone was apprehensive and Eric followed his gaze to the bottle he still held.

“Don’t worry,” the tall reaper said, “I’m not getting wasted today.”  He stepped aside, inviting Eccles in.  “This drink is for relaxation purposes only.”

“I prefer tea myself,” the teacher said, entering the house and looking around the hall.  “Tea does wonders for the body and doesn’t have the adverse side effects of alcohol.”

“Each to his own,” Eric said. “Oh, you’d better leave your shoes here. Alan’s got a thing about dirt on the floors.”

Eccles braced himself against the wall, slipping his shoes off and setting them under the bench.  “It’s a nice place you’ve got here,” the teacher said, following Eric to the kitchen.

“No thanks to me,” Eric said with a laugh, opening the cabinet and pulling out a teacup.  “Before Alan arrived, this flat was no better than me; filthy and worth as much as a pile of rubbish.”  He pulled out several boxes of tea.  “Take your pick.”

“Earl Grey, please,” Eccles said, taking a seat.  “How is Alan doing?”

“He’s asleep now,” said Eric as he measured the leaves out, pouring the still warm water from the pot over the steeper.  “He was in a bad way when I arrived here, but relaxed fairly quickly and dropped off to sleep while I was making him some tea.” When the cup was full, he set it in front of Eccles, along with milk and sugar, and sat across from him, taking another drink of his beer.

Eccles took a sip of tea, nodding his satisfaction.  “Very good, thank you.”  A short moment of silence followed, in which Eccles glanced around the room.  “I can tell Alan’s been living here.  Flowers on every surface.”

Eric smiled as he looked at the vases placed around the kitchen.  “He’s got them in all the rooms.”

“He’s certainly submerged himself deeply into your home,” Eccles said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his drink.

“That’s for sure,” Eric agreed.  His thoughts only a few minutes ago had paralleled exactly what the teacher was now saying.  “He’s got a place here.”

Eccles’s gaze caught his eyes and Eric’s eyebrows lifted under the teacher’s scrutinizing look.  “What is it?”

“Nothing bad,” Eccles said.  He let out a sigh.  “I think Alan’s found a place that’s better than this house; I think he’s found a place inside of you.”

Eric rolled the bottle between his palms, quiet as the other reaper spoke.  His eyes drifted to the flowers on the table. They were a mix of dandelions and bluebells, crisp in color, like the sun and sky.

“And, honestly,” Eccles continued, “whether you realize it or not, you’ve found a place in him too.”

Eric grinned, lifting his gaze to the other’s eyes.  “Heh,” he chuckled.  “Are we that transparent?”

“Like glass,” Eccles said, returning the smile.  “You have the makings of the deepest friendship I have ever seen.  I was a fool before for trying to keep you two apart.”

“Well, we all make mistakes,” Eric said with a wink, taking a swig of his drink.  Eccles nodded in agreement, drinking his tea, and for the first time, a sense of companionship fell between the two reapers.

“Eric?”

Both men turned to the doorway to see Alan standing in it, blinking without his glasses and holding his teacup in his hand.  Eric pushed back his stool, standing, and Eccles did the same.

“Did we wake you with our talking?” Eric asked.

Alan shook his head. “No… I had a… I just woke up.”  He looked at the cup in his hand. “I drank the tea.  It was good.”

“That lukewarm stuff?”  Eric moved forward, taking the cup.  “You should have let me get you a fresh batch.”

“That’s why I got up,” Alan said.  “I was going to make some…”

Eric could tell the reaper was slightly out of it and put a steadying hand on his arm.  “Alright, we’ll get you back to bed and then I’ll make you some more.”

“Allow me,” Eccles said, holding out his hand, and Eric nodded his thanks, passing the teacup over.  He then guided Alan back down the hall to his room and helped him into bed, this time properly pulling the sheets over him.  After making sure the reaper was tucked in, Eric drew back.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

Alan leaned his head back into the pillows.  “Yes…”

Eric took a step away from the bed.  “I’ll go and-.”  Before he could take another step however, he felt Alan’s hand grasp his shirtsleeve.

“No!” the reaper said in a shaking voice. “Please don’t go.”

Eric turned, shocked at the desperation in Alan’s tone.  He moved back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Of course I’ll stay,” he said.  “Don’t worry.”

Alan closed his eyes, swallowing as he gripped the blanket in his hands.  Eric wondered what had caused this sudden panicky fear and was about to speak when there was a rapping sound and Eccles peered around the door.

“Tea?” he asked, and Eric stood.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the cup.  Eccles looked to Alan, who was now lying still, though his eyebrows were drawn tightly together.

“Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Eric answered, glancing at Alan.  “I’m going to sit with him.”

“I’ll leave then,” Eccles said.  “Please let me know when he’s feeling better.”

“I will,” Eric promised, and Eccles thanked him, then moved slowly to the door and left.  Eric heard him walk down the hall then, after a moment’s pause, the house door opened and shut again.  Turning his full attention back to Alan, Eric returned the bed.  Though he sat quietly for a long moment, Alan didn’t move and Eric wondered if he had fallen asleep again, for his face was turned away and his breathing was calmer.

Eric was about to leave when Alan’s hand slid across the blankets until it found Eric’s and his fingers wrapped around the older reaper’s hand.  In the small movement Eric felt the pain still pounding inside Alan, the same fast tempo as his heartbeat.  He turned his hand so Alan’s rested in his palm.

“What is it?” he asked.

Alan let out a shaky breath.  “I had a dream.  That’s why I woke up.”

“A dream?  Just a dream?”

“A nightmare,” came the correction and Eric’s guess was confirmed.

“It’s just in your head,” Eric said, though he knew what Alan was feeling. “It’s not real.”

“But it was.  It happened… didn’t it?”

Eric sighed.  “Yes.”

“I want to tell you about it.”

He had not expected that.  “You don’t have to-.”

“I want to!”

“Alright,” Eric said.  “I’m listening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told one of my amazing readers, Nicki, I would share a playlist I made on YouTube. :) Every time I hear a song that makes me think of Alan and Eric, I add it to this list. ♥ The list --> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLs5r7qt_dS3KsEqvNP9OzXWxngHcG7k8U


	20. Memories

 

When Alan began, his voice was faltering, as if the memories were ones he had cast away and now had to recollect bit by bit.  His tone was low, but clear and willing to tell the story.

“I grew up in a good home, money wise.  A maid, a gardener…but that wasn’t important.  I was young and thought only of my family.  My father…he designed buildings, ans could draw the most wonderful things.  He’d show me, sometimes, how to use a pencil and make the image come to life.

“‘I draw buildings all the time, Alan,’ he’d say.  “Let’s draw something else, eh?  The cats, perhaps? How about your mother in the garden that you love so very much?’

“That always made me smile, when he talked of drawing the garden.  Mother and I loved that garden to no end. She’s the one who taught me everything about flowers, you know.  Which ones grow best in July, how to save the seeds, the language of them… My sisters were never interested in that, but they would follow me along everywhere else, with bright eyes, especially when they were small.  They loved to cook, so the three of us would often make meals, which our parents would praise us for, even if it was just sandwiches. They were all so silly…”

Eric didn’t make a sound, but his heart ached at the loving tone in Alan’s voice as he spoke of his family.  He knew many reapers whose unloving families were the cause of their deaths.  Eric wished he could recall his past and remember love and affection as Alan did.

“But, you know, things don’t last,” Alan said, still not looking at Eric.  “And…and I got sick.”

Eric heard the way his voice changed.  No longer was it warm and affectionate; fear had tainted it now, fear and regret.  Alan’s hand shook a bit, as if his body was recalling whatever had ailed it in the past.

“I’d never been the healthiest person,” the small reaper whispered.  “But this time, they didn’t know what to do.  No one did, not even the most expensive, well-taught doctors my parents could find.  They all sighed and shook their heads, dismissing my condition as a mystery never to be solved.  Nothing my parents tried worked, and I got weaker and sicker until I could hardly leave my bed.  No more school, no more walks with my sisters…”  Alan closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a trembling breath.  “Oh, my sisters… they didn’t care if I was in or out of bed.  They would run into my room, telling me of what the neighbors were doing, and what the weather was, although I had a window.  Mother read to me when I couldn’t gather the strength to even hold a book.  Father often carried me out to the garden so I could be with the flowers and feel the sun…and even then, as I was wasting away, I was surrounded by happiness.”

Alan bit his lip, his fingers curled, and Eric moved only to pressure his hand slightly in comfort.

“A friend came from the center of London one day, to tell us there was trouble in the city.  A number of gangs had started fights and there were constant robberies and deaths.  But that was deep in the city.  We thought we were safe.  We were far from the violence and the people, and father only worked away from home a few times a week.  It wasn’t really all that bad…”

Eric could feel the ‘then’ coming.  There was always a ‘then’ in reaper stories.

Alan turned his head and looked at Eric, his eyes wide but still dry, as if he was trying not to listen to his own words.  “Then…”

His voice trailed off and Eric wasn’t sure what to do.  To speak would break the story, but perhaps that’s what Alan needed.  Eric squeezed the reaper’s hand.

“Hey…”

“Then, one night, it happened,” Alan said quickly.  “What we all thought never would.  It was late, and everyone was asleep.  I slept lightly those days, so when the front door opened, I heard it, even from up in my room.  The hinges squeaked, you see….  It was so late, and I knew no one had gone out, so I was confused. Perhaps a friend had come, needing help.  There was a bell beside my bed, so I could call for someone if I needed it.  It was small and silver and I rang it…”

Alan’s eyes were misty now; he sat up, his fingers clutching Eric’s hand tightly, and he swallowed, taking a deep breath.

“I made a mistake,” Alan whispered.  “They were robbers, not anyone we knew, and my parents were wakened by me, so they got up.  They must have seen the criminals over the banister, for my father began shouting.  At this point…I had no idea what was going on, but I was terrified.  Father kept talking, telling them to leave, to go before he notified the police…”

Alan’s voice had dropped so low now that Eric strained to hear the words.

“There was a bang so loud I felt it in my heart.  Father stopped shouting and I could hear Mother’s screams.  She cried my sisters’ names several times and then suddenly she was in my room, rushing to my side and telling me to get under the covers and don’t make a sound.  It was too late though. One of the robbers came into the room and Mother turned, and even in the sparse moonlight I remember…she was so beautiful.”

Alan’s voice cracked as tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he clenched his teeth together, eyes shut tight.  Eric was cold and silent, waiting.

“She held her arms out, to beg…to protect me,” the younger reaper said.  “All she cared about was me… Then she was gone.  There was a bang and she was gone…”

Alan was shivering now, and his nails dug sharply into Eric’s skin, both hands now gripping the tall reaper’s hand.  His voice was thick and every word was rough and forced.

 “I don’t remember the sounds of my screams, but I know I must have made some sound for the man seemed startled, like he hadn’t even known I was there.  Though I could hardly move, I dragged myself out of bed and I held her so tightly…but she was already gone.  I didn’t even care that the man was right there. Something was ripping my heart out of my chest and her blood was all over my nightshirt.  No one could do anything to me worse than what had already been done…”

Alan choked on his tears and coughed, pausing in his story.  Eric’s whole body felt like it was on fire and he gritted his teeth, willing his own tears not to fall as he watched Alan struggle to talk.

“He just left me!  I wasn’t a threat, I wasn’t important, and they just left the house.  It was so quiet… Everything was silent but for my sobs.  I held my mother and begged for her to speak to me but she couldn’t, not anymore.  No one in the house could…

“And then all at once I woke up and I was in bed again and there were people everywhere.  A neighbor came by me, saying she’d come that morning and found everyone.  She said one of the gangs came through this way and had stolen from nearly every house along the road.  Ours was the only one where the inhabitants had woken up….  I just nodded.  She seemed confused at my silent behavior but left, telling me to call her if I needed anything.

“I suppose I was confused too, at first…” Alan said, his voice suddenly calm.  “I just knew that I was alone.  I didn’t have to ring that bell.  If I hadn’t, no one would have woken.  My sisters would have been coming in any moment with a breakfast try they made up themselves.  But they were dead.  My mother was dead. My father was dead.  I was the only one left.”

Eric’s spine tingled at the way Alan spoke of his family’s deaths; as if he who wished never to see death again had suddenly embraced the notion, even cherished it.  The reaper’s hands slid from Eric’s and Alan looked around the room, his eyes falling on the dresser drawers.

“There was a set of drawers in the room, wasn’t there?  Yes, there was one and on top of it was a collection of bottles.  My medications.  I hurt so much but I got out of bed and took up one of the bottles of pain pills.  One of the policemen came in then and asked if I was alright being out of bed.

“‘Could you take me to the garden, please?’ I asked, and he obliged, helping me down the steps to the yard.  ‘I’d like a moment alone,’ I said, and he nodded and retreated, telling me if I needed anything, to just ask.  Once he was gone, I opened my hand to reveal the bottle.  I took one and it worked, a little.  My head stopped hurting, but my heart wasn’t fixed.  One more didn’t help that either, and two more only stopped it a bit.  When the bottle was empty I felt so much better and it was almost like I couldn’t feel anything at all.”

Alan glanced up at Eric, who couldn’t help it; his face was twisted in a grimace of pain, tears welling in his eyes.  The smaller reaper blinked quickly, touching Eric’s knee.

“I though… this must be what peace is like, right?  Silent, with no feeling at all?  Surrounded by all the wonderful flowers, in the sun, butterflies dancing over the blossoms likes faeries… Nothing sounded better than that.  I thought that death must be so nice, just like this…. I lay on the grass, and the world got all fuzzy and the flowers waved goodbye to me in the sweetest way, so I closed my eyes and let myself go…”

Alan’s voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands, unconsciously twisting the bedsheets.  Eric bit the inside of his lip till it bled and the silence grew until Alan’s shoulders began to shake again.

“Eric… I-I n-need, I need…”

He reached out and Eric didn’t hesitate to move forward, pulling Alan into his arms.  “What is it?  What do you need?”

Alan gripped Eric’s shirt, taking deep breaths. “I need you to stay.  Don’t ever leave.  I don’t want to be alone like that ever again.  So just… don’t go away, okay?”

Eric’s tears dripped off cheeks, falling into Alan’s hair, and he struggled to keep his voice steady.  “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he answered, gently stroking Alan’s back, his hand running over the taunt muscles.  “I’m here to stay, got it?”

Alan nodded, his forehead bumping against Eric’s chest.  “Okay...” he whispered.  “Got it.”


	21. Those Who Wish To Listen

I _IIIIII_ I

When Alan woke, he panicked slightly when he momentarily struggled to open his eyes.  His heartbeat slowed when he rubbed the coating of sleepy seeds from his eyelashes and lifted his lids to see the dim room.  Yawning, he sat up and pushed back the covers, but as he made to get out of bed, he was stopped by a mess of shaggy blond hair over the edge of the mattress.

On the floor beside the bed, leaning against the bedside dresser, was Eric, head tipped back, quietly snoring with his mouth wide open.  Alan smiled at the sight, but then his grin faded as he recalled the day before.  The clock on the bedside table read 7:00 in the morning and Alan rubbed his eyes, guilt washing over him.

“I kept you up all night, didn’t I?” he said, eyes flitting over Eric, who was still dressed in rumpled work clothes.   _‘I didn’t have to do that… force my past upon you like that.  How selfish I am.’_

Everything was fuzzy, but his glasses weren’t on the table.  Thinking back to the night before was painful but he faintly remembered Eric taking his glasses off in the bathroom.  Dropping his legs over the other side of the mattress, he slid his feet into his slippers and walked around the end of the bed, taking a pair of shorts from the dresser.  Slipping into them, he went to pick up the cold cup of tea from the bedside table.  As he did, he looked down at Eric and shook his head.

“Silly man,” he whispered, gently removing the purple tinted glasses from his friend’s nose and setting them on the table.  “You spent far too much time thinking about me and disregarding yourself.”  Replacing the cup, he quietly dragged a blanket from the bed and settled it over the reaper as gently as he could, then tiptoed toward the door and headed out of the room.  After getting his glasses and putting the cup in the sink, he went to the living room, where the drapes let in a small amount of the morning sun.

Pulling back the curtains, Alan opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony.  Resting his hands on the rail he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  He felt oddly peaceful.  Though he had highly expected to experience the same painful feelings from the night before, the dizzy nausea was replaced with only a slight weakness in his knees.

“Hm,” he sighed, sitting back into the balcony chair.  “I’ve collected a soul…  Not my last, but one of the hardest, I assume...  I hope,” he added, and a sick feeling tingled in his stomach.

“Don’t dwell on it,” he scolded himself, quickly getting to his feet, startling a pair of sparrows that had alighted on the railing.  “Your job begins soon and to react to every retrieval in such a fashion will do no good for yourself or for Eric!”

Heading into the kitchen, he blushed as his mind lingered on Eric.   _‘Oh my,’_ he thought as he filled up the teapot. _‘Did I really beg for him not to leave me alone?  What a child he must think I am.’_

“Time to rely on myself,” he said to the vase of flowers on the table.  “You’re an official reaper now; no more teachers.”

As he moved around the kitchen, washing his cup and heating water, a ping of regret quivered in his chest.  He was happy that the test was over, in fact, nothing had made him more relived, but now that it was done and over with, Eric was no longer his mentor.  Alan knew they would see each other, of course they would; they were both in the retrieval section and might even work together at some point or another.  But the closeness of their everyday lives was what Alan regretted losing the most.  They had gone beyond a mentor and a student and he didn’t want it to turn into a work relationship.

 _‘The only one who made me feel like I wasn’t a mistake.’_ Alan smiled as he poured out the water over the tea leaves and went out to the balcony.  He watched the robins flit about the tree and sat on the chair, his hands warming around the teacup.

“This day dawned brighter than I thought it would…”

I _IIIIII_ I

“Higher, boy, higher!  You’ll miss!”

The dark haired boy grimaced as he lifted the rifle, aiming it into the sky.  A moment later a storm-gray bird, barely visible against the dull clouds, shot out of a tree and fluttered into the air.

“Now!” the man cried, and the boy pulled the trigger, gasping as the butt of the rifle kicked against his shoulder.  The shot rang sharply in the quiet forest clearing but the bird kept going, vanishing into a far set of trees.  The boy lowered the gun, not daring to look at the man.

“You’ll never eat if you miss,” said the harsh tone as the rifle was pulled roughly from his hands. “This is the proper way.  Look at me!”

The boy lifted his chin and watched as the man raised the rifle.  A few moments later a second bird rose into the air and the bang of the gun shattered the calm.  The small creature stopped in midair and then tumbled down, vanishing into the long grass.

The man tilted the barrel of the rifle down. “That’s how it works.”  He snapped his fingers.  “Fetch.”

The chocolate brown Labrador that had been patiently waiting at their heels bounded to her feet, bouncing around the boy for a moment before dashing into the weeds toward the fallen bird.  The man looked down at the boy, who had his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t pout,” the man said. “You’re not a baby, are you?”

The boy shook his head and the man snorted.  A minute later the dog came galloping back, the pigeon in her mouth.  The man bent and took his from her. “Took you long enough, dumb dog.”  He tucked the pigeon into his sack and handed the rifle to the boy, who took it hurriedly, then turned and began walking toward the tree behind them.

“We’re done?” the boy asked, confused.  The dog standing at his side cocked her head to one side, then lay down on his toes.

The man looked back. “ _I’m_ done.  I’ve got my dinner.”  He continued away from the boy and the dog, sack over his shoulder. “If you want to eat, you hunt your meals. You’re old enough now.  And get some for the dog if you don’t want it to starve.”

The boy stared after the man as he vanished into the brush, small fingers wrapped around the large gun.  The dog at his feet whined, gazing up at him with sad eyes, pink tongue lolling out of her mouth.

The sun was low in the sky, the boy’s eyes wide as he watched the quiet trees where the man had disappeared.

“B-but, Daddy…  I need you to help me…”

The blackish green of the pines loomed around him and he felt he was drowning in them.  He looked up as a murder of crows swooped over him and his head hit something hard.

“Ouch!”

Eric opened his eyes, holding his head where it had hit the solid wood of the nightstand.  Groaning, he sat up and looked around with bleary eyes at the empty room.  For a second, confusion flickered through him, but then he remembered why he was on the floor of Alan’s room instead of in his own bed, and his pushed himself to his feet, the blanket that had covered him crumpling to the floor.

Eric stretched his arm and then ran his hands through his hair, tousling it even more than it already was.   Finding his glasses, he put them on and blinked as the room came into focus.

The lingering effects of the dream were slowly fading, but a prick of discomfort still remained in his chest.  Picking up the blanket, he took the corners and lifted it into the air to let it settle softly back down to the mattress.  The gentle rippling movements of the cloth eased something in Eric and he sighed as he smoothed out the few wrinkles and crinkled corners.  His dreams weren’t exclusive to that particular memory, but it was one that stuck out prominently in his mind.  It wasn’t a memory of pain, at least not the kind that was visible on the outside, though he had plenty of those too.

Leaving the room, the tall reaper walked down the hall to his office.  Going into the room, he peered through the second door into the living room and saw Alan at once, sitting on the balcony.  His notebook was in his hands and he was sketching something, the pencil moving swiftly over the paper.  Eric smiled.  Simply the sight of Alan, hair falling over his eyes, his small frown as he concentrated, could make Eric’s heart feel lighter.

Going back to his own messy room, Eric discarded his clothes to a pile of dirty laundry in the corner and opened the dresser drawers for a fresh set.  Drawing on the black trousers, he put on a belt with the silver studs and then reached for his shirt.  Pulling the white cloth over his shoulders, he hesitated in front of the full-length mirror.

 _‘Don’t do it,’_ he thought, but moved closer to the glass nonetheless.  Peering at his reflection, his touched his right collarbone, running his fingers over the smooth skin until- there; a small raised line disrupted the skin.  He knew he shouldn’t be doing it; there was no reason to think back on the past now that he had a good reason to keep looking forward to the future.  But the dream had brought back the memories and he couldn’t help but feels the scars again.

His hand slid to his left side, over his ribcage.  The small bumps tingled under his fingers, though the sharp hot pain of the leather had faded long ago.

Pulling his hand away, he frowned at himself.  The scars were barely visible anymore; and in the dim room, he could only find them by touch.  No one knew they were there.  No one but him.

“Just forget about them,” he said, yanking his shirt closed over his chest.  “They’re not part of you anymore.”

He knew that was a lie.  How could he forget something that had brought him here, the things that made him a reaper?  But for now he pretended he could banish all his nightmares and forget the past.

Buttoning up his shirt and grabbing a dark green tie from the closet, he proceeded to the kitchen.  Water in the pot was still slightly warm and he poured it over the black tea leaves along with milk and sugar.  Returning the milk to the fridge, he took out a carton of eggs.

He purposefully clattered the skillet on the stovetop so Alan would know he was up, and started cracking eggs into it, tossing the shells into the compost bin next to the garbage.  Alan had started up a trash system, though he had to keep reminding Eric what was garbage, what was recyclable and what was compost.

“I just tossed it all into one bin,” Eric said one day, watching Alan sort through the glass and papers.  “Why use three?”

“You tossed it all over the place,” Alan replied. “Not just in the bin.”

“True,” Eric answered with a grin, sitting down at the table.  “The floor was my trash bin.”

“It’s good for the environment,” Alan said. “See, I can use compost in the garden instead of it being piled up somewhere to rot.”

“That is pretty smart,” Eric admitted.  “Probably good for the flowers too, right?”

Alan nodded. “Now you’re getting the idea.”

Now Eric was more used to the plan, though Alan still scolded him, pulling paper from the garbage and potato skins from the recycle bin.

Eric dumped some of the only slightly charred scrambled eggs onto a plate and headed through the hallway to the living room.  Reaching the open balcony doors, he tapped on the glass.

“Hey,” he said as Alan turned.

“Hey,” Alan replied.  “You’re up.”

“Yup.”  Eric grabbed the second reclining sun chair from where it leaned against the wall and flipped it open.  “I made some eggs for us.”

“Thank you.  I’ll have some later.”

Alan returned his attention back to his drawing, which was just a mess of lines so far, but Eric thought he could see a group of people starting to take shape on the paper.  The tall reaper marveled at how Alan could take all those lines and create something out of them, whether it was a flower, an animal, or a person.  All he knew how to do were stick people.

“Mr. Eccles came last night?” questioned Alan, still sketching.

“Yeah,” Eric answered. “He wanted to see how you were doing.  He was pretty worried after you passed him in such a hurry.”

“I wish he hadn’t had to see me like that.”

Eric shrugged. “He understands. We all do. It’s something we’ve all gone through.  And we had a good talk.”

“I’m glad,” Alan said, and fell silent again.

Eric forked some eggs into his mouth, watching Alan out of the corner of his eye.  The reaper looked better; in fact he looked great, considering what he had gone through yesterday.  But Eric still couldn’t read all of Alan’s body language and wondered if he was okay inside.

 _‘I could ask,’_ he thought.   _‘Would that reopen the wounds?’_

Before he could make a decision, Alan’s pencil hesitated in its movement and the reaper lifted his head.  He didn’t say anything for a moment, watching the birds swooping between the buildings, then looked over at Eric.

“Thank you,” he said, and Eric thought he sounded ashamed.  “And I’m sorry.”

Eric swallowed his mouthful of eggs and nodded. “You’re welcome, and why are you sorry?”

Alan sighed. “Because I forced my past upon you.  I didn’t mean to, I just…”  He shook his head. “What am I saying? I knew exactly what I was doing.  I had you stay and listen to me and it was probably awful for you.”  He stood, notebook falling onto the chair.  “The most important rule for reapers and I went ahead and broke it.  I shouldn’t have made you listen.”

The reaper gripped the balcony rail, staring down to the yard below, and Eric set down his plate and got to his feet.

“Of course it’s awful,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “It’s not going to be anything else.  Alan, you needed to let it out and who else were you going to tell?  Look at you; you’re much better this morning.  You’ve been holding everything in for so long…  All your pain and misery, it’s been bottled up inside and you finally had a chance to release it.  That’s not a bad thing.”

“But… but the rule,” Alan said.  “I should not have made you experience my pain.”

Eric moved forward, placing a hand on Alan’s shoulder.  “Do you know what the rule says? The exact words?”

Alan glanced up, confused. “Yes.”

“And what are they?”

Alan hesitated, thinking. “‘Under no circumstance whatsoever is a reaper to ask another reaper about their suicide. If a reaper wishes to speak about it, it must be in private and spoken only to those who wish to listen’.”

Eric nodded, squeezing Alan’s shoulder. “So what rule did you break?  I was more than happy to listen.”

Alan stared at Eric for a moment, and then pressed his hands to his face.  Eric frowned, concerned, but when Alan looked at him again, he was smiling.  “Eric, I don’t know- I think I love you,” he laughed.

Eric chuckled, putting an arm around the reaper’s shoulders. “Fine by me! Now, have you eaten anything this morning?”

Alan shook his head and Eric sighed. “Goodness, then you must have some charred eggs.  Very good for the body.”

Alan smiled. “Alright; sounds absolutely delicious.”


	22. Glasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's longer so the next chapter maybe a bit shorter.

During breakfast Alan had decided the only way he was going to smoothly get through the day was if he had a list of objectives to follow through with.  So while he got dressed he came up with a list and a plan and was determined to get it done without a hitch.

 _‘The two of us seem to have gone through a couple of hitches since we’ve met,’_ Alan thought as he looked at his tie.  It was the first time he had worn one and needless to say, was completely baffled by how it should be tied.  Ignoring the unsympathetic knot for a moment, he looped it over his shoulders and studied himself in the mirror.

He didn’t look all that different than usual, though the shadows under his eyes were noticeably deeper.  He reached up and straightened his glasses, with their large lenses that made his eyes seem only slightly larger than normal.  Well, he would be getting new glasses today, the final checkpoint before he was qualified as a new reaper in the eyes of the management.  For some reason the thought sent shivers along his spine.

The tie would not cooperate so Alan left his room with it still hanging loose and went into the kitchen where Eric was just finishing putting away the last of the breakfast dishes.  Another rush of gratefulness filled Alan as his eyes fell on the tall reaper; he could never express his gratitude in the same magnitude he felt it.

Eric placed the last dish in the cabinet and tossed the towel on the drying rack.  “We should go get your glasses today,” he said, picking up his teacup.  “Will would have my hide if you did anything before getting your glasses.”

“I’ve got a schedule planned for today,” Alan replied, taking a piece of paper and pencil from a drawer.  He quickly scribbled down what he had had in mind and passed it over to Eric.

The tall reaper read the list around his cup.  “Glasses, office space, shopping, lunch…”

“I’m going to go into work tomorrow,” Alan said, taking a sip from his own cooling tea.  “I think I should know where I’m going.”

“Good idea,” Eric nodded, setting his cup in the sink.  He turned back to the list and scrutinized it thoroughly.  “What’s this? ‘Look for a flat’?”

“Oh, yes.”  Alan fiddled with the tie around his shoulders.  “I should get my own place, right?  I mean, you don’t have to mentor me anymore and if we’re both starting work…”

His logic didn’t make any sense.  He didn’t want it to make sense, but Eric just nodded slowly.

“I… suppose…”  The tall reaper folded the list and handed it back to Alan.  “Well, we’ll get to that later.  Right now it’s time for glasses.”

“Why does Mr. Spears make such a fuss about them?” Alan asked, turning off the lights as they left the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s a fetish of his, I think,” Eric said, sitting on the bench to pull on his shoes.  “He’s always had an odd obsession with them.  But they are important; all of us have awful vision without them.”

“Why is that?” Alan asked, suddenly realizing he had never wondered why every reaper wore a pair.  It was rather peculiar, now that he thought about it.

“Something with our DNA when we become reapers,” Eric said, shrugging on his coat and handing Alan his.  “Just like we get heightened sense and reflexes, we also get a little fuzzy in our vision.”

“And it happens for a reason?”  Intrigued by this new information, Alan followed Eric has they left the flat, heading downstairs.

“Sure does,” Eric answered, opening the outer door and holding it for Alan.  “When our general sight diminishes, the senses that allow us to see souls and cinematic records are heighted to the fullest ability.  Those senses take the front seat so we need glasses for our regular sight.”

Alan mused over this for a moment as they got in the car.  “How does that happen? How exactly do we become reapers?”

“And there’s a question to which no one knows the answer,” Eric said, pulling away from the curb.  “And if they do know, they sure won’t answer.  Telling that secret would be breaking every rule in the book.”

“It’s a bit… disturbing,” Alan said.  “As humans, we know how we are brought into the world.  But as reapers, our second birth, as it sort of is, is a secret event.”

“It bugs me,” Eric said, and Alan glanced at him.

“I think it bugs us all,” the reaper said, mildly surprised at the openness of Eric’s statement.  He turned to the window and peered out at the passing city, letting out a sigh.  “But it’s what’s been chosen for us…  Mr. Eccles!”

“Huh?” Eric asked, confusedly bringing the car to a crawl.  A yellow bug behind them beeped furiously at the quick deceleration and zoomed around them. Eric gestured angrily at the driver and then turned to Alan. “What’s this about Eccles?”

“He’s waving at us; pull over please.”  Alan rolled down the window as Eric brought the car so it paralleled the walk.  Unbuckling, Alan opened the door and stepped out, looking down the walk.  Eccles broke into a jog and soon reached the car, a smile growing on his face.

“Alan, you don’t know how good it feels to see you up and about,” the teacher said, holding out his hand.

Alan took it with a smile.  “Thank you very much, Mr. Eccles.  I feel a lot better this morning.”

“Good, good,” Eccles said, “I’m happy to hear that.”

“Eric said you stopped by yesterday,” Alan said. “That was very kind of you; thank you.”

“Just wanted to make sure you were doing alright,” Eccles said, shaking his head.  “Mr. Slingby and I had a good talk.”  He leaned over, looking into the car to where Eric sat.  “Good morning, Slingby.”

“Eccles,” Eric acknowledged with a wave and a grin.

“We’re off to get my glasses,” Alan said and Eccles nodded.

“Ah, very important.  Can’t be a reaper without glasses.”

“So I’ve heard,” Alan smiled.  “Are you headed to the academy?”

“I am,” Eccles answered, and Alan motioned to the car.

“We can drop you off, right Eric?”

“Sure,” Eric said, unlocking the back doors. “Hop in.”

“Much appreciated,” Eccles said, opening the door and getting into the back.  Alan returned to his front seat and Eric put the car into drive.  They chatted as the car moved along, talking about gardening and Eccles’ students, leaving behind the memories of the past night.

“Want to join us for lunch later?” Eric asked as he pulled up in front of the academy.

“I would love to,” Eccles said, opening the door, “but I have back to back classes all afternoon.  My apologies.”

“Sometime soon, then,” Alan said, and Eccles nodded.

“It would be my pleasure.” The teacher stepped out of the car, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.  “Thank you for the ride.”

Eric nodded, “No problem.”

“Have a good day,” Alan wished him.

“The same to the both of you,” Eccles replied with a smile before closing the door, sending back a wave as he hurried toward the main doors of the academy.

“Now for glasses,” Eric said, turning away from the curb.  Alan nodded, and he couldn’t deny that the thought of getting his special pair of glasses was an exciting one.

Before long they reached the Dispatch Building and Eric led the way to the Spectacles Department.  Before they went in, the tall reaper stopped in the hall.

“Now, I know my style,” he said, “and I am certain having an undone tie is not yours.”

Alan looked down, having completely forgotten about the uncooperative tie. “Oh, that’s right.  I was having some trouble.”

“Never tied one, huh?”

Alan shook his head and Eric motioned to him.  “Come on; I’ll show you.”

Stepping forward, Alan looked down, watching as Eric proceeded to twist the length of cloth together until it looked like the blue one the tall reaper wore, though notably tighter.  “It doesn’t look all that hard,” he said as Eric adjusted the tie.

“Your turn then,” Eric said, undoing his work.

Alan lifted his hands to the loose ends, hesitating for a second before slowly bringing them together.  The loops tightened, but it wasn’t quite correct and he fumbled with the material.  As his fingers meddled with the already bungled knot, an angry breath of air escaped his lips.

Eric let out a laugh, and Alan glanced up, upset and embarrassed.  The tall reaper covered his mouth.  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t really laughing at you.  I just remembered the first time I tried to do up a tie and Will saw me.  He gave me a speech on how to correctly do one up.  I swear that man’s got a lecture for everything.   I have no doubt that’s the reason why my ties these days aren’t anything comparable how he would like them to be.”

Alan smiled at that, but his frustration at himself still lingered.  “I don’t think mine is how he’d like it to be either.”

“We’ll just have to run this again.”  Eric reached up and undid his own tie. “Maybe if you saw it from a different angle.”

Alan studied the method intently as Eric knotted his tie, but even so, his own refused to cooperate.  After watching the smaller reaper struggle for another moment, Eric reached out, taking Alan’s hands in his own and guiding him through the motions.  As he did, Alan closed his eyes, memorizing the feel of Eric’s hands leading his fingers in the right direction.

A few seconds later, the tall reaper drew back and crossed his arms. “Well, you’re all done up sharp now, anyway.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Alan said, touching the cloth at his neck.  He could still feel the warm points where Eric’s fingers had moved his hands, and he tried to keep the feeling imprinted in his mind.  “Thank you.”

“Ah, no sweat,” Eric replied, turning to open the Spectacle Department door.  “Now let’s find you a pair of glasses.”

During his time as a reaper, Alan had only been to the department once; during the general tour given to new students.  The visit had been less than spectacular, since at the time glasses were a new and mostly boring topic.

But this time as Alan stepped into the room beyond, his heart beat faster and a nervous jumble of excitement and fear twisted in his stomach.

The room they entered into was fairly small, and simply filled with shelves and shelves of glasses. Large and small, plain and flashy, thick and wire-rimmed, it seemed like the choices went on forever.

“I’ve got to choose just one type?” Alan gaped at the hundreds of pairs that surrounded them as they walked further into the room.  The choices seemed limitless and counting the number of shelves in the room didn’t help the overwhelmed feeling that was settling on his shoulders.

“Yup,” Eric said, going to a shelf and picking up a pair.  They had thick rims with gaudy jewels on the nose bridge and along the temple pieces.  Slipping them out of their plastic case, he put them over his own pair.  “Pretty snazzy.”

“You look good,” Alan said with a smile.

Eric wandered over to a mirror to look at himself and Alan turned to the shelf nearest.  This one was chockfull of colorful rims and glitter.

 _‘Not for me,’_ he thought, going around to the other side.  These rows had a multitude of round lenses, and Alan picked up a pair.  Taking off his own glasses, he put the other set on and went to the end of the shelf to look in a mirror.

The face looking back at him wasn’t bad, but he didn’t think round lenses were his style.  He put his own pair back on and was replacing the round ones when Eric stuck his head around the corner.

“How about this pair?” he asked, and when Alan looked up he had to giggle.

Eric was wearing the most ridiculous pair of glasses he had ever seen.  Thick rimmed and oval shaped, the large lenses was adorned with a headband that curved over the wearer’s head.

“Are those supposed to be cat ears?” Alan asked.

Eric nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s what it is, yes.  I could see you wearing this.”

Alan shook his head. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Suit yourself!” Eric grinned, vanishing back around the shelving.  Still smiling, Alan kept moving along the shelves, looking, but not spying anything he could see himself wearing.

 _‘I suppose it’s not like I could never switch out my glasses,’_ he thought, picking up a small rectangular pair.   _‘But to find the right pair the first time round… that would be a special thing.’_

“Alan, you have to come and try these on!”

Alan sighed.  He would never find a pair at this rate.  But he wasn’t angry in the slightest as he joined Eric in front of a mirror. “What is it?”

“Put these on,” Eric said, handing him a round rimmed pair.  Alan put the glasses on and when he glanced into the mirror he let out a startled laugh.

The spectacles Eric had given him were round with thick lenses, and made his eyes seem three times larger than normal.  The tall reaper had put on a similar pair and made a fish face when he caught Alan looking at him.  The sight was so absurd that he burst into laughter.

Eric couldn’t hold in his chuckles, his bizarre expression breaking into a grin as Alan laughed.

“We look like mad bugs!” the smaller reaper giggled.  He had not known picking out such an important piece of a reaper’s existence could be so entertaining.  It seemed that this serious ritual wasn’t all as solemn as it seemed.

“I’m going to buy a pair of these and stand outside Grell’s office,” Eric said, taking off the glasses and wiping his eyes.  “She’d freak.”

“Just watch out for her death scythe,” Alan said, putting his student glasses back on and holding up the magnified pair.  “Where did you find these?”

“I’ll put them back,” Eric said, taking them.  “You keep looking.”

Alan did, but it seemed like he tried on a hundred pairs and still he couldn’t find a set that felt right.  Frowning at his reflection, he removed the current test pair and sighed.

“Find one?” Eric asked from where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a book he had pulled from his work bag.  Alan was mortified to see that he was already a good way into the story.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I’m taking far too long.  You’re probably sick and tired of being here.”

“This is a good book,” Eric said good-naturedly, tapping the novel.  “Take your time.  Find the perfect pair.”

“That’s the problem,” Alan sighed, setting down beside his friend.  “I can’t find any that I like.  I mean, some look okay, but I wouldn’t want them to be _mine_.”

“I understand,” Eric said, closing his book.  He drew one knee up and rested his arm on it.  “This is a milestone.”

“How’d you decide yours were the right ones?” Alan asked.

Eric reached up and took off his glasses, and Alan studied them closely.  Eric’s glasses were simple and had a thin rim along the top; the nose guard mostly straight, not curved. The most unique thing was the purplish tint in the lenses.

“You’re right,” Eric said. “It’s not easy.  I think the only person who ever got their glasses in less than an hour was Grell.”

“Red with a chain?” Alan nodded. “And the chain has little skulls…”

“I’m pretty sure she added the chain,” Eric said, “but I think she’d had her eyes on those beauties for a while before passing her test.”  He turned his glasses in his hands.  “However, I took almost as long as you are.  None of them looked or felt right.  I eventually chose a pair that looked very much like the ones I have now.”

“But they weren’t these?”

Eric shook his head.  “Nope. I walked in to get my eyes tested for lenses and to show the style I wanted. After they got my results, the lady went back and brought out a pair.  After she handed them to me, she tried to take them back right away, saying that she had gotten me the wrong pair.  But I held on.  As far as I could see, the only difference was these had tinted lenses.  So I tried them, looked in a mirror and I knew. That’s what had been missing.  That itty bit of purple in the lenses.”

“You’re right, they are perfect for you,” Alan agreed as Eric put the glasses back on.  He got to his feet, straightening his waistcoat determinedly.  “I’ll be back with the right pair.”

“Good luck,” Eric grinned, picking up his book again.  He opened it to the correct page and began reading.  The part he was at was pretty dramatic; the son was moving away from his family to go across the sea to America.  And he was leaving his true love behind in England, as he only had enough money for himself.  Once in America he hoped to make more and then she could join him there.

Separated for so long with no way of speaking. _‘How horrible that must be,’_ Eric thought as he glanced over to where Alan’s satchel sat beside his own.  Reaching inside the front pocket, he pulled out the list Alan had made that morning and held it up, studying the words.

Glasses.

Office Space.

Shopping.

Lunch.

Look for a flat.

It was the last one that mattered the most to Eric.  He hadn’t known Alan wanted to get his own place before this morning, though he supposed he should have anticipated it, what with the mentorship over.  Every reaper got a flat of their own after passing the test; it was a relief after being in a shared dorm.

 _‘Guess being at my place was kinda like being at a dorm,’_ Eric thought, unconsciously patting his breast pocket.   _‘What with the trash everywhere and shared space.’_

He grunted when he didn’t find the pack in his shirt pockets and reached inside his bag, taking out the box of cigarettes and book of matches.  Striking one, he lit the cigarette and inhaled the smoke, coughing slightly when the taste filled his mouth and nose.  He hadn’t had one in a while now, trying to stop smoking in the house and when Alan was around, and the sensation was almost foreign.

 _‘Who wouldn’t want to get their own place? I couldn’t wait until I was on my own….’_ He chuckled quietly, but it was a sarcastic sound.   _‘Man, was I stupid…  Looking back, being in such a hurry to have independence maybe would have been better if I had had someone to spend it with.’_

“You insane, brother?  I think they’d have your head for smoking in here.”

Eric glanced sideways to find a pair of black leather boots tapping toward him down the aisle.  He smirked at the voice and lifted his eyes to the face above the boots.

“You’re one to talk,” he said, taking another drag. “What are you doing here?”

I _IIIIII_ I

Aisle five, third shelf from the bottom.  They were slightly hidden behind a circular pair, but the silver temples glimmered, catching his eye.  Pulling the pair out, he scrutinized them as he had done for so many others.  Most he put back, but this time he drew the glasses out of their clear case and turned them over in his hand.  They were completely rimless, the lenses rectangular, not with sharp edges, like Will’s, but with rounded corners.

Moving to a mirror, he took off his student glasses and put the new pair on.  Looking up at himself, he took in a breath.  They were perfect, absolutely perfect.  The simplicity mattered not a bit; the way they sat on his nose, fit in front of his eyes, nothing else had come even a little close to the exactness of this pair.

Happily slipping them off and putting the old pair back on, he went to find Eric.

When he turned the corner, Alan was surprised to find Eric standing and talking with another reaper.  She didn’t look familiar, but Eric seemed to know her pretty well, by the casual way they carried the conversation.

She had long black hair and pale skin and wore a typical work suit, with a waistcoat and tie, but her trousers were tucked into knee high leather boots.  The boots had narrow heels that made her nearly as tall as Eric, and she looked almost unhealthily thin.

Eric sometimes went out after work for a drink with his friends, but Alan had never accompanied him and didn’t know their faces.   He assumed this was one of them now as he approached.

“Oh, hey, Alan,” Eric said, turning as the reaper came up to them.  “This is Joy.  I used to hang out with her a lot.”

“Hello,” Alan said, holding out his hand.  “I’m Alan Humphries.”

“Oh, so you’re the one who Eric been teaching,” Joy said with a grin, shaking his hand. “I never knew he was the teacher type, if you know what I mean.”

“I think he’s done a very fine job,” Alan said, flashing a smile at Eric.  “I don’t think anyone else could have taught me near as well as he has.”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. “Ah well, I try.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Joy said, looking Alan up and down. “Eric talks about you on his very infrequent trips to the local joints.”

“I’ve been busy,” Eric said, stretching his arms.  “Works been harder than usual.”

“Well maybe you could try and make it out sometime.” Joy glanced at her watch.  “Hey, why don’t you come with me right now? I’ve got Shelia and Drake going. We’re headed to Lucky’s for lunch.”

“Can’t,” Eric said, motioning to Alan. “We’ve got a schedule already.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “A schedule?  I guess…. But you try and meet up with us some night, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Eric promised, and Joy nodded.

“You’d better!” she said, then turned and walked out of the room.  When she was gone, Alan turned to Eric.

“You should go, if you want to.  I’m sure I can do the shopping myself.”

Eric shook his head. “No, this is the plan and we’re sticking to it.  Besides, you need my biceps to carry all the stuff.”  Grinning, he clenched his fist and curved his arms, flexing his muscles.

Alan laughed and looked down, smiling.  Eric grinned even more.  Nothing made him happier than getting Alan to laugh.  No, he wouldn’t trade this busy day for a drink with old acquaintances.

Suddenly Alan started, his hand going to his pocket. “Oh, I found a pair!”

“Really?” Eric bit down on the end of his cigarette, putting his hands on his hips. “Let’s see them!”

Alan slipped off his student pair and handed them to Eric.  Then he bowed his head, adjusting the new set before lifting his chin and looking up at the tall reaper through the crystal lenses.

Eric’s breath hitched.

The look was flawless, the way the spectacles sat delicately on Alan’s nose and above his distinct cheekbones… For so long he had known Alan as a student, an inexperienced young reaper who he had to take care of and watch out for and teach the ways of the world.  But here, this was the reaper who had passed his test, the one who had taken care of his household and even managed to gently fashion his heart back into shape.  This wasn’t a child, he was a man, and Eric was now fully appreciating that.

“Eric?”

Alan’s voice broke into the tall reaper’s thoughts and Eric started, realizing the cigarette was falling out of his mouth, there were ashes drifting to the floor and he was blatantly staring at Alan.  He coughed, taking the nearly dead cigarette in his fingers and moving his gaze to the burning head.

“You know, glasses really do complete a person,” he said.  “Make him look whole.”

Alan shrugged.  “I don’t know if it’s the glasses as an object, per say… I think it’s just a good milestone to see people in a new light.”

“Well, I’m seeing you in a light that looks pretty good,” Eric said. “I think they’re perfect on you.”

Alan blushed and smiled. “Thank you.”

Eric flicked his cigarette into a trashcan and bent, picking up both his and Alan’s bags. “Now we’ve just got to get the right lenses for your eye type and we’re done here.”  He turned, heading for the door in the back of the room that would take them to where the glasses were made and fitted.  As Alan hurried to fall into step beside him, Eric cast a sideways glance at the brunet and decided that whether he was seeing Alan in a new light, or new glasses, or whatever, the reaper was looking damn fine.


	23. Ready For Work

Sitting at the kitchen table that evening, Eric shuffled through the small stack of papers in his hand.  Each one listed the rent price, facilities and location of a different flat.  He and Alan had managed to visit a few before it was time to get home and start dinner.  Eric hadn’t liked a single one.

“To empty and big,” was his main excuse, and Alan had shook his head.

“I have to buy some furniture.”

“We just bought all that new stuff for my place,” Eric said.

“I do like the style of our flat now,” Alan mused. “Maybe I could buy from the same shop…”

Eric had frowned and refrained from saying that Alan could just stay with him forever.  He wouldn’t mind at all.   _‘We’re good enough friends, right?’_

Now he tossed aside the papers and turned to look at the other reaper, who was moving around the kitchen with the groceries they had bought that morning.  Alan had changed into his lavender cardigan and a white apron for cooking.

“What are you making?” Eric asked, leaning back in his chair so the front legs lifted off the ground.

“Lasagna,” Alan said, flipping through a cookbook.  “Please don’t ruin the floor when you tip that chair back down.”

“You’re probably dying to get your own place,” Eric said, rocking back and forth. “Won’t have me to clean up after and cook for.”

Alan shrugged, going to the cupboard and taking out a box of noodles. “I don’t mind cleaning,” he said. “And I love cooking; you know that.”  He frowned at the noodles as he slid them into the boiling water on the stove. “I hope I get a chance to make homemade noodles sometime soon.”

“That’s a lot of noodles,” Eric said, steering the conversation to a subject both of them would enjoy.

“You’re right,” Alan said, assembling ingredients for sauce.  “To bad it’s just us here. We should have some company over sometime.  I’ll just have to freeze some of this…”

Just then a ring sounded through the house and both of them looked up.

“I’ll get it,” Eric said, standing from his chair.  As he did, the legs thumped down, hitting the wooden floor with a bang.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, hurrying into the hall as Alan glared after him.

Going to the door, Eric turned the handle and opened it.  At once he was pleasantly greeted by Thom and Sam, the latter of who immediately asked how Alan was doing.

“Never better,” Eric grinned, then poked the bridge of her nose. “Nice glasses!”

Sam smiled and touched the large, thick rimmed cat eye spectacles.  “Thanks!” she said.  “They took me forever to pick out!”

“We just dropped by to see how Alan was doing after the test,” Thom said. He glanced at Sam, who looked at him, then back at Eric.

“I had a rough night,” she said in a more subdued tone.  Eric clapped a hand on her shoulder. “We all do.”  Looking at the two, he grinned.  “Well, this is perfect! You know what Alan was just saying?”

“I was just saying we could use come company!” Alan smiled, delighted, when the Danys siblings entered the kitchen.

“We showed up at just the right time then,” Thom said, reaching over the island to shake Alan’s hand.

“I’m all sticky and saucy,” Alan said, glancing around for a towel.  He quickly wiped off his hand before taking Thom’s.  Sam walked around the counter and hugged Alan from behind.

“How are you doing, Alan?”

“Perfect,” Alan said with a laugh, twisting around in her arms and hugging her in return. “How are you?”

“Doing absolutely great,” Sam said, stepping back.  As she did, Alan’s gaze went down to her shirt.

“Oh gosh, look at that; I got tomato all over you!”

Eric grinned as Alan grabbed a damp cloth and started scrubbing at the tomato while Sam stated profusely that it was fine and he needn’t bother.  The tall reaper knew that neither of the younger reapers were ‘perfect’ nor ‘absolutely great’.  Yesterday would still be haunting their minds, and yet they unquestionably were happy at the moment.

 _‘Guess that’s all that matters,’_ Eric thought, going to the fridge and taking out two beers. “Thom?” he said, and the other reaper turned in time to catch the bottle Eric tossed at him.  Sam pulled up a stool next to Alan to chat while he finished the sauce and Eric wandered out into the hall and to the living room.

Thom followed and soon the two were standing on the balcony, watching the setting sun.  After a second or two of silent sipping, both reapers turned to each other and said simultaneously,

“So, is he actually okay?”

“How’s Sam really holding up?”

Both laughed and Eric nodded, “Yeah, Alan’s doing fine.  He recovered nicely from the test.”

“Same for Sam,” Thom said.  “She had an awful time of it last night, but this morning she said she couldn’t stand to sit around crying another minute and it did no good anyway.”

“They’re pretty smart, those two,” Eric said, looking out over the street.  It was mostly empty, with one reaper meandering down the walk, reading a book as she went.  “Smarter than others.”

“Smarter than me,” Thom sighed, casting his gaze across at the other buildings.  Eric glanced at him, but didn’t say anything, not wanting to push the other reaper.  So Thom hadn’t had come to terms with the effect of the test as quickly as his sister…

“You know,” Thom said, “Lots of people think I’m super chill about this whole collecting souls thing, but I’m not.  I act like it, but that’s the lie I tell every day.  After my test I moved out right away, got into my new place and beat the shit out of the couch.  I just pounded that thing like it was all of my problems and I could get rid of them all by ripping it up.”

The reaper let out a dry chuckle. “Course that didn’t work.  Got me a ruined couch and a sore back and I still couldn’t believe that I was going to be collecting the souls of the dead…”  Thom shook his head. “And that wasn’t long after Henry got Alan into the Infirmary, so that was gnawing at my stomach like a rabid animal.”

Eric didn’t speak.  He wondered who the last person was that Thom could talk to besides his sister.  He didn’t feel required to fill the role; he just didn’t mind doing it.  If talking helped, let the guy talk; it wouldn’t hurt either of them.

“And then Alan forgave me.”  Thom looked over at Eric.  “I got to know you two and, I don’t know, things got better.  I guess you healed me, as cheesy as that sounds.”

Eric nodded as Thom took a deep drink of his beer. “You ain’t the first,” he said.

“What, to rip up my couch?” Thom asked, and Eric chuckled, shaking his head.

“No.”  Eric leaned on the rail as the sun dipped lower in the sky, almost at the vanishing point behind the buildings.  “Alan healed you.  He healed me too.”

“You?” Surprise was apparent on Thom’s face.  “I thought you were always the ‘it man’ at the office. Great collector, got along with everybody…”

Eric shrugged. “Maybe… but what they got at work wasn’t what the alcohol brought home every night.”

“Oh.” Thom turned his gaze back to the view and Eric sighed, the beer in his hand slowly warming in the night air.

“I guess Alan’s just got something special,” he said quietly.

Thom took a drink as they watched the final part of the glowing orange ball of light sink behind the buildings.

“Maybe…” he said, “Maybe we’ve all got something, and he just helps us realize it.”

I _IIIIII_ I

Sam watched as Eric and Thom left the kitchen.  When they were gone, she turned back to Alan, who was mixing the sauce.

“Hey, Alan?”

Alan switched his attention to her.  “Yes?”

Sam tucked her hands between her thighs, rocking slightly on the stool.  “You think about tomorrow at all?”

“You mean work?”

“Yeah.”

Alan looked down at the sauce as it swirled in the bowl.  “Of course I have.  Eric and I actually went to see my office space today.”

“Same here,” Sam said.  There was a brief silence, then she spoke again. “So, think you’re ready?”

Alan shrugged. “Is anyone ever ready?”  He sighed, putting aside the spoon.  Wiping his hands on his apron he wondered what to say. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

“Yeah me too, I guess,” Sam said.  “Just hope I don’t screw anything up.”

Alan pulled out a stool and sat next to her, leaning on the counter.  “You won’t.  You did really well in class.”

Sam nodded. “But so far the only experience I’ve had is the test.  And you know how that went.”

“The test is rough for everyone,” Alan said, taking a pinch of oregano from its jar and sprinkling the dry leaves into the sauce.  “Eric told me that it’s the one of the worst collections a reaper will face.”

“The only reason I got through it was because of you,” Sam said. “What about when I’m on my own?”

Alan shook his head. “You’ll do great, Sam.  I know you will.”

_‘It’s me I’m worried about...’_

I _IIIIII_ I

That night Alan laid out his suit for the next day on the bed, making sure everything was smooth and wrinkle free.  He laid the necktie out on the crisp white shirt and stepped back.  Everything seemed right.

“Hey.”

Alan turned to see Eric leaning against the doorframe in his cozy pants and t-shirt, backlit by the hall light.

“Hi,” Alan said.   “I’m just getting ready for tomorrow.”

“About that.” Eric stepped in, taking a small box from behind his back.  “I got something for you.”

He moved forward, holding the box out and Alan took it from his hand.  Opening it, he saw inside a silver charm on a black cord nestled in soft cloth.

“It’s a bolo tie,” Eric said. “I thought you’d look good in it.”

Alan lifted it out, studying the design of the metal.  It was in the shape of a small tangle of vines surrounding a larger flower.  He liked the smallness of it, it was delicate compared to the tie he had worn that day.

“I looked for a single flower but there wasn’t one,” Eric continued. “That was the only one with flowers.  It’s not like the vines aren’t bad or anything, I think it’s nice looking.  Maybe better than a single flower.”  The reaper scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway.  I just thought maybe you would like it.”

Alan smiled at Eric’s rambling. “I love it,” he said. “Thank you.”

The tall reaper looked relieved at that. “Oh good.”

“I’ll wear it to work every day,” Alan promised.  He took the tie from the bed and replaced it with the bolo.  Moving back once again, he nodded in satisfaction.

He was ready for work.


	24. First Day of Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long ;-; Forgive me, lovely readers.

6:30 Wake up.

6:35 Make tea and water house plants.

6:45 Begin breakfast.

7:00 Hear Eric’s alarm go off as breakfast finishes cooking.

7:10 Rap on Eric’s door to wake him up.

7:12 Eat breakfast and read paper.

7:20 Give Eric reheated eggs and toast.

7:22 Assure Eric that work will be fine

7:25 Bathroom pep talk, reassuring self that work will be fine.

7:30 Dress and comb hair, admire bolo tie.

7:35 Tell Eric he’d better get dressed.

7:40 Tell Eric if he’s not ready in five minutes they’ll be late.

7:45 Leave flat with a haphazard Eric.

7:47 Stare out car window and try not to panic.

7:50 Reach Dispatch Building and try not to panic.

7:55 Part ways with Eric at floor fourth from the top, saying company to the cubicle is not needed while assuring him for the hundredth time work will be fine.

7:56 Work is looking less fine by the second.

7:57 Wish Eric was there.

7:58 See Sam and become a whole lot happier.

8:00 Open folder and study the first-day introduction files.

8:15 Begin mundane desk work

10:00 Leave office for first official Retrieval.

Alan hoped no one could see him shaking.

He tried to imagine what he looked like to the other reapers as he walked to General Affairs to pick up his retrieval scheduling binder.  Hopefully they couldn’t see the worry in his eyes, the fear he felt in his chest as he moved between them.  He felt out of place, like a single fish trying to swim the opposite way of all the others.

Trying to slow his step and smooth his brow, he made his way to one of the desks and told his name to one of the assistants.

“A newbie, huh?” the reaper said, flipping the papers on his clipboard. “Level Four reaper? Yup, got your name right here.  You need a binder, right?”

“Yes,” Alan said.

“Half a sec.” The reaper stood and moved through a door to a back room.  Alan could hear him shouting to various people as he searched for what the reaper needed.

At first Alan’s retrieval jobs would arrive on his desk, as well as having them noted in his binder, but after a time he would have to take the responsibility fully into his own hands, without aid.  A scheduling book was of the most important tools of a reaper, that’s what Eric had said.  The binder was to be filled with your months schedule; all the souls to collect, all the paperwork to file and turn in, all the meetings to attend.  While the scythe was an arm, the binder was the brain of a reaper’s assets.

Alan glanced down at the small scythe hanging at his hip and wondered what sort of new scythe he should choose.  His mind went to Grell and he knew he would never choose something as unwieldy and bold as a chainsaw.  Will had unique one; a pruner styled scythe, and Alan considered that option as he waited.

After a few long moments the reaper was back, a neat black binder in his hands. “There you go,” he said, handing it to Alan, who slid it into his pack.  “Good luck on your first collection.”

“Thank you,” Alan said, a ripple of nervousness washing over him as the reaper spoke the words.

Leaving General Affairs, he made his hurried way to the Administrative Department, and the Scheduling Division.  For the first time, he would have pages dotted with dates and times, places to be to collect a soul.  At the end of every month he would add fresh pages and have the next four weeks of work written in, and then he would work through those, until the end of the month, and then it would begin again. And again and again, until he feared all the years would run together in one painful blur and he would either feel too much or stop feeling anything at all.

“I don’t want to feel nothing,” he whispered, stopping so suddenly in the hallway that he was almost run over by another reaper.

“Watch it!” the reaper growled and Alan quickly moved to the side of the hall.  Leaning against the wall, he took a few breaths and then reached into his satchel, pulling out his scheduling binder.  Opening it, he could almost see the faces that would soon fill the empty space.

Sighing, he opened his satchel and slid out the small stack of papers.  Opening the binder rings, he slid the papers onto them and snapped the metal shut.  Today he had a single collection, an old woman by the name of Rosa Gills.  She was going to die of lung cancer, quietly in her sleep.

 _‘Not such a bad way to go,’_ Alan thought, looking at the photo in the binder. The image was black and white, but he could imagine the twinkle in her eyes and the warmth in her soft pink skin even so.

Quickly closing the cover of the binder, Alan pushed away from the wall and picked up his satchel.

 _‘I may not like it, but I won’t leave a job unfinished.’_ He looked into the reaper flow of work and death that moved through the hall, and steeled himself.   _‘I am not going to slack off because of my silly little feelings.  This is an important job.  I need to show I can meet the challenge.’_

He walked toward the main doors, steps firm and direct.  His fingers brushing against the handle of the scythe at his hip and he breathed in the building’s scent of cologne and ink and death, the mixture almost dizzying.  He would meet the challenge and do his best to overcome it.

I _IIIIII_ I

9:00 pm came and Eric took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes as the clock on the wall chimed the hour.  Writing the final word of the last sentence on the paper before him, he shoved it away and tossed the pencil into the empty coffee cup with the rest of the writing utensils.  The ones that weren’t in lost in corners and cubbies around the office anyway.

Pushing back his chair, he picked up his bag, slipping a few folders into it that would have to be completed at home.  Double-checking that he had everything, he flipped the light switch and closed the door behind him.

Whistling as he walked down the hall and entered the lift, the reaper wondered if Alan had gone home yet.  They’d eaten lunch together, but hadn’t spoken since.

 _‘Can’t hurt to swing by,’_ Eric thought, pressing the button that would take him to Alan’s floor.

When the doors slid open, the floor was dim, all the cubicles here empty and silent.  Heading into the next room, Eric found this one mostly dark as well, save for a soft glow came from one of the cubicles near the back.

Walking quietly, Eric passed the empty stalls, rounding the wall that the light glowed behind, and let out a soft chuckle.

“Alan,” he said, leaning over and shaking the reaper. “Wake up.”

Alan’s eyes opened and he sat up with a start. “Hm?”

“Rough first day?” Eric asked.

Alan rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Did I fall asleep..? What time is it?”

“Nine,” Eric replied.  “All the other level four reapers have gone home.”  He leaned against the divider.  “Everything go okay today?”

Alan nodded, picking up the few papers on his desk and straightening them.  “Yes.  I guess I didn’t get enough sleep last night…”

“The first day wears everyone out,” Eric said, taking Alan’s coat from its hook.  “Ready to go?”

Alan nodded. “I’m finished here.”  He set the papers in a neat pile and stood, taking his coat from Eric’s hand. “Thanks for waking me.”

“Figured you didn’t want to sleep here all night when you’ve got a perfectly good bed at home,” Eric grinned.

_‘A perfectly good bed in a perfectly good home that you could sleep in forever if you wanted to forget about buying your own flat.  Just a suggestion.  A purely selfish one.’_

The tall reaper waited as Alan gathered up his satchel and turned out the light, and then the two friends headed out of the building and toward home.


	25. Party Time

“Eric, the phone is for you!”

“Okay! Be right there!”

“He’s coming,” Alan said into the receiver, tucking the dishcloth he was using into his belt loop.  A second later Eric appeared in the doorway, running a comb through his golden locks.

“What’s up?”

“Here he is, Joy,” Alan said.

“Thanks, kid,” Joy’s voice crackled back to him as he passed the receiver to Eric.  The tall reaper leaned against the wall.

“Hey, what is it?”

Alan returned to his task of drying the lunch dishes as Eric listened to the long reply.  He slowly took a plate and rubbed it, curious as to what Joy wanted.  He had an idea and Eric’s next words proved him correct.

“That’s quite a crowd you’ve got pulled together,” the reaper said.  “Where’s the party at?”

Apparently Joy’s answer was a good one because a grin spread over Eric’s face.

“Ha!  Nice. They have the best sandwiches. What time did you say again?”  He twirled the phone cord around his finger, waiting.  “Eight?  I’ll be there.  See ya.”

“A party?” Alan asked as Eric replaced the receiver.

The tall reaper nodded, leaning against the island. “Yeah. There’s a really nice bar I used to hang out at and Joy’s getting some people together for some fun.”  He straightened up, smiling. “Hey, you should come too.”

“Oh,” Alan said, uncertain as he stretched to put a plate on the top shelf, “would that be okay?  She just asked you to go.”

Eric took the dish from his hand and set it in its spot.  “Don’t worry; it’s a web system. One person asks someone, who asks someone else, who asks someone else. Who knows how many people will be there by the time it starts.”

Alan hesitated.  He wanted to go, sort of.  But he also knew what sort of event it might end up being and he wasn’t sure he was in the same league of partiers as Eric and his friends were.   _‘Most likely I’d end up getting in the way of the fun.’_

He turned and looked at Eric, shaking his head.  “Thank you, but I’m not sure I’d enjoy myself.”

A flash of disappointment appeared on Eric’s face, but then it was gone and he was smiling again. “No problem.  We’ll have to go out to that café you like sometime then.”

“Yeah,” Alan said, guilt washing over him.

Eric cast about the kitchen, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, I guess I’d better make a beer run. The party never ends at the bar. You need anything while I’m in town?”

“No, but thank you,” Alan replied, twisting the dishcloth in his hands.

Eric nodded and snagged the car keys from the table. “Okay.  See you later!”

Alan sat down on one of the island stools and sighed.  Taking off his glasses he rubbed the lenses with the edge of his shirt, wiping away invisible smudges.   _‘Did I make myself sound like I was too good for him and his party?’_

He hadn’t meant to come off that way; he simply wanted Eric to have a good time tonight.  The reaper hadn’t been out like this more than a few nights since the beginning of the mentorship and Alan knew he hadn’t gotten even a little drunk since the time the Management had split them up.  What was so good about getting drunk, Alan didn’t know, but Eric sometimes talked about the wild parties he would go too and his tone became excited.  So there must be something fun about washing yourself in alcohol with a group of people.

Alan propped his chin in his hand.  Whatever it was that drew Eric to that style of get-together was not his cup of tea.  His cup of tea was a literal cup of tea and good book.  That’s all he needed late at night to be content.

 _‘You’ve never tried to have fun with other people,’_ he reminded himself.   _‘What if you love it?’_

“My style is at home and quiet,” he told himself firmly. “No need to feel like I have to do something just because someone else is.”

Looking down at the dishcloth in his lap, he sighed again. _‘Ah, I am so boring.  As soon as I move out Eric can get back to his normal life.’_

He had been an official reaper for almost two months now, and even though each collection was no easier than the last, he was falling into the rhythm of work and home.  He hoped he could keep the same comfortable regularity when he moved out and Eric wouldn’t be around...

I _IIIIII_ I

It was getting later, nearly eight, when Alan finally clipped the last weed in the bed of tulips.  He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and sat back on his heels.  He cast a satisfied look over the flowers and got to his feet.  Putting the clippers away, he glanced up at the balcony doors.  They were open, and he could here Eric singing something from inside.  Alan smiled at the sound.  Eric was a very vocal man, whistling or singing his favorite songs and melodies while dressing, showering, relaxing, or any other time of day.  And while Alan enjoyed peace and quiet, when Eric sang he loved to listen.

Heading into the house, the reaper found Eric in the kitchen, tipping his chair back and looking over the array of pamphlets on the table as he combed his hair.

“These all the places you’re interested in?” the tall reaper asked as Alan entered the room.

“Yes,” Alan answered, going to the sink and turning on the hot water.  He stuck his hands under the stream and watched the dirt on his skin turn to mud.

“Eh, I don’t like any of them,” Eric replied, tossing one of the brochures down.

Alan smiled down at his hands. “Ah, but you don’t have to live in them so why complain?”

“I can complain if it’s my former student who is moving in,” Eric countered, standing and glancing at the clock.  “Seven fifty…”

At the sink, Alan watched as the mud slid off his skin and vanished down the drain.  He cast a glance at Eric and noticed he was wearing an outfit Alan had rarely seen; a formfitting black coat, with a lot of zippers, over a gray top and black jeans.  He looked good, the silver studs in his ears accenting the style.  Alan was sure he’d be hit on more than a few times that night.

“You’d better go,” he said, shutting off the water and reaching for the hand towel.  “You’re supposed to be there at eight, right?”

“Right,” Eric said, setting the comb down and running his fingers through his hair. He did that quiet frequently and Alan thought it was pointless to comb hair and then immediately mess it up again, but Eric made it look good somehow.

“You sure you don’t want to come?” Eric asked, pausing in the kitchen doorway.

Alan hesitated again, but then shook his head in resolve.  “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Okay,” Eric said, raising his hand in farewell. “See you later.”

“Bye,” Alan replied, “Have fun.”

“I will!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know I've been posting less frequently and I'm afraid that's going to continue :( I'm starting collage next week so I expect my days will be pretty busy! I will do my absolute best to keep posting chapters as frequently as I can. You guys are so great and I'm so happy you continue reading this story. I put a lot of heart into it and I really appreciate the kudos and views, and the comments (looking at you, Nicki! :)   
> You guys rock! ♥


	26. Hangover

The next morning when Eric’s alarm went off there was a bang and thump so loud it made Alan jump and the egg he was flipping splattered on the floor.  The reaper glanced at the doorway but, when everything was quiet and no Eric appeared, he decided it would be best to go see if his friend was alright.  Turning off the burner, he went down the hall and knocked on Eric’s door.

“Eric?  Are you okay?”

There was no answer and Alan rapped again.  When all that came back was a groan, Alan forwent politeness and opened the door.  Peering around in the room, he flipped the light switch on and suddenly he didn’t whether to laugh or gasp at the sight before him.

The covers were dragged almost completely off the bed, the pillows askew, and last night’s clothes were cast about on the already messy floor.  Eric was face first in the carpet, the lower half of his body still on the bed and the alarm clock clenched in his hand.  The tall reaper was tangled in the sheets and Alan dearly hoped he had his boxers on.

“Eric?” he whispered as he carefully moved through the mess to his fallen friend.

One hand lifted briefly and an agonized, “Shhhh… not so loud,” came from the tousled blond head.

Alan shook his head, hand on hip.  “How many drinks did you have?”

“Only twelve…ish…”

Alan nearly had a heart attack at that.

“What?” he cried and Eric moaned, muscles tensing.

“Don’t yell, please.”

“Sorry,” the reaper said, lowering his voice. “Did you take any aspirin?”

Eric shook his head, grinding his nose deeper into the floor, and Alan sighed.  “I’ll be back.”

Going to the bathroom, he opened the cabinet to get the medicine and filled a cup with water.  He generally preferred natural remedies for illness, but right now Eric needed something strong that he didn’t have in the garden.

Returning to the bedroom he found Eric hadn’t moved at all except to slide a little more onto the floor.  Crouching by the reaper’s head, Alan held out the supplies.

“Here.”

With quite a bit of moaning and groaning, Eric pulled himself the rest of the way off the mattress and sat in the jumble of sheets.  Alan shoved the aspirin and water into his hands, glad to see Eric had at least managed to keep his undergarments in place when he had undressed.  The tall reaper downed the medicine and looked up at Alan with bleary eyes.

“God.  Sorry, Alan.”

“You’re lucky we’ve got off today,” Alan said.  “Come out when you’re ready. I made eggs, but I’m not sure you’ll want them in your state.”

Eric was turning green at the mention of food so Alan left him to get sorted and had the kitchen cleaned and all the plants in the house watered by the time Eric emerged from the bathroom and wandered into the living room where Alan was drawing.

He had barely entered the room when the phone rang.  Eric winced at the sound but turned, saying he would get it.

A moment later Alan heard him speaking in a tired voice to the person at the other end.

“Hey, Shelia. …Yeah, it was great, but could you please keep your voice down?  …A lot of aspirin and a friend who cares enough to make you coffee instead of tea.  …He said it’s not his thing and after seeing me you think he’d ever want to?  …Okay, I’ll talk to you later. …Bye.”

Eric reentered the living room and sank into a chair, letting out a deep breath.  Alan glanced at him.

“Feeling better?”

Eric nodded, running a hand over his face.  “Yeah.”  He chuckled. “Bet this makes you want to go out even less, huh.”

Alan shrugged. “I sort of figured you’d be like this.”

Eric sank further into the cushions. “I haven’t partied like that in a while… I wasn’t going to drink that much but Shelia and I were really getting into the dancing…”

The reaper’s voice trailed off, and when Alan looked at him again, his eyes were closed and his head was tipped forward so his chin rested on his chest.  The younger reaper shook his head and smiled softly, going back to his artwork as Eric snored.

I _IIIIII_ I

That afternoon Eric was still sleeping in the chair so Alan decided to take a shopping trip to London.  They were in desperate need of salt and flour, two things which Alan didn’t care to cook without.

Leaving a note on the table, he went to the living room to double-check on Eric.  The reaper’s position was unchanged and he was still snoring, so Alan left the flat and headed down the street.  If a reaper walked to London the trip was a rather long one, and Alan didn’t have a bike, but he didn’t mind the hike and made good time crossing the bridge as he enjoyed the sunny day.

London was the usual hub of life and excitement, leaving the reaper overwhelmed despite his frequent trips for work.  He made his way down the street, taking in the feeling of power the city held.

As he walked, there was a sudden shout and he was nearly tripped by a streak of black and brown that shot between his legs and vanished into a nearby alley.  A second later a large sweaty man in a vendor’s apron stopped nearby, hands on knees, gasping for breath.

“Is that your cat?” Alan asked.

The man lifted his head, glaring. “Good god no! That wretched creature has been stealing bits of my wares for weeks!”

Alan looked over, expecting to see a stand of fresh fish or something of the like, but instead a mountain of potatoes covered the booth.  Alan felt a smile on his lips but refrained from grinning. It was very apparent the situation was not funny to the vendor.

“I hope you find a way to keep her away from your wares,” the reaper said and the vendor snorted.

“If I ever catch that cat, I’ll make sure it can’t ever eat another potato again!”  He turned and stomped angrily back to his stand and Alan looked over at the alley where he swore he could see two glinting eyes in the shadows.

“Stay safe, little friend,” he said before continuing on his way.


	27. Potato

_Went to London for some shopping. I’ll be back soon._

_~A_

Eric crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it into the recycle bin.  Taking the pot of cold coffee, he poured himself a cup.  Downing the bitter liquid, he went to the phone and picked it up. Dialing, he waited.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m better.”

“Hi, better, I’m Shelia.”

“Haha. Listen, what was that you were saying about a get together sometime soon?”

I _IIIIII_ I

“Thank you, sir,” the shopkeeper said as Alan handed over his coins.  “Have a good day.”

“The same to you,” the reaper responded with a smile before gathering his bags and heading back onto the street.  The bell above the door rang with a sweet sound and Alan stepped onto the cobblestone walk with a spring in his step.

The setting sun was casting a warm glow over the city, causing the grandest of the buildings to shine like beacons.  The soft smell of bread from a nearby bakery filled the street and Alan took a deep whiff of it.

“I should make some bread,” he said aloud.

Though he would have loved to stroll the city paths, he knew it would take him time to get home so he quickened his step.  He had gotten used to riding in Eric’s car, instead of taking the long way to the city.

However, when he reached a bridge spanning a slow moving canal, he had to pause and watch the sun dance on the surface of the water.  Sometimes the light bouncing off the clear liquid dazzled his eyes and he set down his bags, taking off his glasses.  Rubbing his eyes, he slipped his spectacles back on.  Having taken his fill of the serene city, he was about to pick up his bags when a high pitched noise and a scuffling sound came from somewhere nearby.

Frowning, Alan looked around. There was no one in sight, yet the sound had been clear.  Keeping quiet, he waited, but saw or heard nothing else.

 _‘I must be mad,’_ he thought with a shrug.  But he had hardly reached for his packs when he saw a figure climb out from under the bridge and walk off down the street.

Surprised at this turn of his events, his curiosity grew when he realized it was the potato vendor from before. What on earth had he been doing below the bridge?

Going to the rail, the reaper leaned over, but could see nothing but shadows and spider webs.  The water was clear and dark and unchanged, but then something came out from under the bridge.

It was a lump, a small black object in the water, and it was moving lazily downstream.  Alan studied it closely for a few moments as it drifted, and only when another high pitched meow emanated from the thing did Alan realize what had happened.

“He caught the cat!” the reaper gasped, horrified. “He’s drowning her!”

Taking off his glasses, he slid them into his breast pocket and ran to the end of the bridge.  The slope leading the water was slick and muddy, but Alan ignored the mess that stained his clothing and slid down the river’s edge.  The bag with the cat was too far to reach now, moving away toward the dam at the far end of the river.

Alan didn’t hesitate.  He ran into the water, falling as it became too deep, and began swimming with smooth, fast strokes.  He grew closer, but there had been no more meows and his heartbeat quickened.  He remembered asking Eric what happens when animals die.

“No one knows but the higher ups,” Eric had replied. “A widespread theory is that the ‘sixth sense’ animals have allows them to decide for themselves if they deserve to live or die.  But of course, no one knows if that’s true or not.”

 _‘Please don’t die,’_ Alan prayed as he reached the bag.  It was terribly limp as he swam back to shore and crawled up the slope to the grass.

The bag was done up with a tight knot that his agitated fingers couldn’t undo.  A breath of impatience escaped his lips and he brought the string to his mouth and tore at it with his teeth. Spitting the fibers out, he opened the neck of the bag and reached inside, feeling wet matted fur.

“Oh, please,” he whispered, drawing the small cat out and cradling her to his chest.  Her eyes were closed and Alan pressed two fingers to her chest.  It was still and no heartbeat pattered beneath the ribcage.

Sinking back, Alan looked mournfully at the small body in his arms.  He sat for a while, warming her with his heat and when the sun was sinking low to the horizon, he sighed and closed his eyes.

He would have to bury her.  The ground on the bank was soft; he could do it without a shovel.

“Time to rest,” he said quietly, opening his eyes.

“Mew?”

The sound was so unexpected Alan jumped.  His eyes widened, the cat blurry without his glasses but most certainly alive.  She still lay weakly against him, but her eyes were open, her chin lifted.

“You’re alive!” Alan said. “Why did you decide to come back?”

The cat only flicked her tail and Alan smiled. “You need to be cared for.  You could use some food and a bed.”

He stood and the cat made no move to get away; in fact, she purred.  Alan went to collect his shopping and then hurried toward home, the cat safely in his arms.

I _IIIIII_ I

Tapping his pencil against his forehead, Eric turned his gaze to the clock above his desk for the hundredth time that hour.  Eight fifty the hands showed.  Outside the sky was mostly dark and Alan still wasn’t home.  Unfortunately the reaper hadn’t put the time he left the house in his note, but Eric assumed he hadn’t planned to be out in the dark.

The tall reaper had tried getting some work done, but the lingering effects of last night and now Alan’s absence made it impossible for him to focus.  Pushing back his chair, Eric walked into the living room and went to balcony doors.  Only the empty street greeted him through the glass, streetlamps sending a glow down onto the bare pavement.  His car sat quietly by the walk and he debated taking it to search for Alan.

“Ah, that’s stupid,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the street.  “We’d only pass each other.”

But while he knew it was better to sit tight and wait a while longer, his heart was insisting on going to look for Alan.

Pacing aimlessly in front of the doors, Eric frowned.   _‘When he’s in his own flat… who will worry when he doesn’t come home?  Who’s going to notice he’s gone?  No one, that’s who.’_

“Damn, he’s not a child,” Eric scolded himself. “He’s perfectly capable of living on his own.”

Stopping in front of the doors, he leaned his forehead against the glass.   _‘It isn’t that he needs someone to cook or clean or take him to work.  He needs the feeling of a home, a family.  He’s already lost that feeling too many times.’_ Eric let his eyelids drift shut, his breath fogging the glass even in the late August heat.   _‘And I’ve only just found it…’_

When he opened his eyes again the first thing he saw was Alan, coming down the walk, and relief washed over the tall reaper.  Abandoning his post at the balcony, he hurried to leave the flat and exit the house, going through the gate to meet Alan partway up the block.

“I thought you said you were going to be home soon?” Eric couldn’t help but let a bit of accusation enter his tone as he reached his friend.

“Yes, sorry,” Alan said, “A situation came up.”

It was then that Eric noticed his weary tone and steps, the mud and water staining his clothing, and his tone switched to concern.

“You okay?  What happened?”

“There was a cat,” Alan replied, and looked down at the bundle in the crook of his arm.  Eric’s gaze went to it and in the light of the streetlamp he saw a furry head peeking out from the folds of Alan’s coat.

“Where’d you find it?” he asked, lifting the shopping bags from Alan’s shoulders as they headed back to the flat.

“She was pestering a potato vendor and on the way home I saw him drowning her.”  Alan glanced at the cat.  “I fished her out and figured we could give her some love.”

Eric winced a little at that as he led the way up the steps. “…I suppose it’s a stray, huh.”

“I’m pretty sure, yes,” Alan said, kicking his shoes off in the hall.

Eric dropped the groceries on the island and leaned against it as Alan took a dish towel from the drawer and wrapped it around the cat.

“Do you think you could find a box or something?” the reaper asked and Eric nodded.

“Sure,” he answered, and left the kitchen.

Digging through his closet he sighed.  He was not a cat person.  He liked dogs a lot more than whiny little fuzz ball felines, but there was no way he was going to tell Alan to dump the thing in the street.  As soon as it was better it would go back to London.  He was sure he could live with a cat for a short time.

“Found one,” he said, setting an old shoebox on a chair.  By this time Alan had the cat washed and dried and she sat on a chair as he fed her little bits of raw potato.  Even cleaned up she was still the color of mud and dirt, the light and dark fur blending over her body.

“Potato, really,” Eric said, sitting across from Alan. “What’s this cat’s problem?”

“She has a selective taste, I guess,” Alan said.  He laughed when the cat nibbled his finger instead of the potato and rubbed behind her ears.  The cat purred, butting his hand with her head as he set her down in the box.  Immediately she made a little nest in the towel and settled down, tail wrapped around her nose, her yellow eyes observing them sleepily.

Alan watched her for a moment, and then rose from his chair. “I should get cleaned up.”

“I’ll put away the groceries,” Eric offered and Alan headed for the bathroom, expressing his thanks.  When he was gone, Eric got up and started unpacking the shopping, acutely aware of the cat’s eyes still on him.  He cast a sideways glance at her.

“You do know that’s creepy,” he pointed out.

To his dismay, the cat lifted her head at his words and sat up.  Eric glared. “That was not an invitation.”

Lifting her paw, the cat began licking herself; seeming not to care Eric was watching her.  The reaper resolutely turned his back and continued with his task.  After a moment he glanced over and saw her looking at him.  When she caught his gaze she promptly went back to washing herself.

This little game went back and forth until Eric was finished and walked over to the table, hands on hips.

“This is why cats annoy me,” he said.

With nothing better to do, he sat back down and they stared at each other.  The cat stepped out of the box and walked to the edge of the chair nearest to him, butting her head against his knee.  He pushed her back but she persisted until he lifted her back into her box.  She studied him for a second, and then lay back down.  This time her eyes closed.

Eric sighed, resting his chin in his hand. “But… you made Alan laugh so I guess you’re not too bad…”

I _IIIIII_ I August 22nd

“A stray cat?” Grell wrinkled her nose.

Eric nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich.  “Yup.  Alan found it.  Rescued it, actually.”

“That reaper never ceases to fascinate me,” Will said, stirring his shake as he read an open binder that lay on the table before him.  “I have rarely heard of a reaper taking in a pet.”

“Oh no,” Eric said through a mouthful of ham and cheese, “It’s just staying until it’s better.”

Grell smirked, resting her cheek against her fist. “Darling, Alan is going to want to keep that kitten.”

“Do you know how annoying it was this morning?” Eric asked. “Alan took a shower so I had to feed it.  You know what it likes?  Potatoes.   _Potatoes_.  It’s the only food the thing will eat.”  He tipped back his chair. “It needs some variety.”

Will raised an eyebrow, his gaze going to Eric’s ham and cheese. “Like you.”

Eric glanced down at the pile of onions and lettuce he had pulled from between the bread.  “Hey, I usually eat what Alan gives me.  Better than a shake for lunch.”

“It is a vegetable health mix,” Will said, ignoring Eric and Grell’s gagging motions as he took a spoonful of the green blend and went back to his binder.

“Say, where is Alan?” Grell asked, casting about the lunchroom. “He’s normally with you during lunch.”

“Oh, he had some things,” Eric replied.  “He said a level three reaper asked him to help with filing.”

Grell laughed. “He’s getting the messenger boy treatment.”

Eric grinned. “He is a newbie.”

Grell sighed, flipping her long hair back. “I remember being a newbie.  How those higher ranking reapers would make us run!  Errands, filing, scythe polishing!”  She snapped her fingers at a passing reaper. “Grab me another cup of tea, would you, hon?”

The young reaper nodded furiously. “Yes, Mrs. Sutcliff,” he said and dashed away.

Grell flipped open a compact and checked her eye makeup.  “Hm!  Feels nice to be the one giving orders now!  Work, work, work for them!”

Will set down his health mix, sending a cold look at his red headed partner.  “Speaking of work, do you not have papers due on my desk before lunch is over?”

Grell waved her hand. “Don’t worry; I’ll get to it.”

Will straightened his glasses. “Grell Sutcliff, if that paper isn’t on my desk by the time that clock chimes one-.”

Grell hopped to her feet.  “Don’t fret!  I’ll do it now!  See you, Eric.”

“Bye,” Eric replied with a wave as she sashayed away, snagging the cup of tea from the young reaper’s hands as she passed him.

“Sometimes I wonder about her,” Eric said, resting his head in his hands.

“Indeed,” Will replied, turning a few pages.

Eric took a sip of his drink, watching as Grell spilled hot tea on an attractive male reaper by the door, making sure the liquid hit below his belt.  She reacted dramatically, grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing at the tea stain while the reaper protested helplessly.

“She’s flirting again.”

Will didn’t raise his eyes. “Fascinating.”

Eric shifted his gaze to the management reaper. “You two have got some sort of special connection, you know that?”

Closing the binder, Will stuck it into his bag.  “Grell and I do not have a special connection.”

“Then you’re just bed buddies?" Eric asked as Will rose from his seat.

Will looked at him but didn’t say anything.  He didn’t have to.  The two reapers had spoken enough before about Grell and her relationships.  What they had just said were off-hand remarks that both of them knew were lies, no matter how many of the other reapers thought it was the truth.  Will Spears and Grell Sutcliff were connected deeper than most; their bond went back before they had even become reapers.  And Eric knew that, though Will’s coldest remarks may be directed at the redhead, and Grell may seek attention from almost anyone who would give it to her, nothing could shake the two of them apart.  They were partners, lovers, each one half of the other.

“Afternoon, Eric,” Will said and Eric nodded.

“See you.”

When Will was gone, Eric glanced down at the wilting pile of greens on his plate, considering their worth.  Looking around he spotted a table with a few of his drinking friends and, quickly shoveling the greens into his mouth, picked up his things and went to join them.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has any idea on what to name this chapter, I'd be grateful. It's pretty much just a filler chapter and I don't know what to call it.

Late afternoon had rolled in and Eric was considering cracking open his liquor cabinet.  He usually did at some point or another during afternoons when he had paperwork.

Drumming the eraser of his pencil against the desktop, he cast a sideways glance at the cupboard.  It was very tempting, but he still had a lot of work to finish that required a sharp mind.  After being out all day collecting souls, the filing had built up and Eric could have sworn there was more folders on his desk now than there had been before he went out on retrieval duty.  He wondered if Grell had slipped some of her work into his office when he was gone.

 _‘Typical,’_ he thought, leaning back into his chair and reaching for the cabinet door.  A shiny decanter was glinting temptingly at him from behind the glass and he unlatched the doors.  Propping his feet up on his desk, he unstopped the bottle and undid the next button his shirt.  If he was going to do Grell’s paperwork too, he deserved this.

He had barely scratched the surface of the mess before him when there was a tap on his door and it opened.

“Mind if I come in?” Alan asked, and Eric shook his head, swinging his legs down to the floor and sitting properly in his chair.

“Don’t bother knocking,” the tall reaper said as Alan entered.  “You’ve spent so much time in here it’s almost your office too.”

“Thanks,” Alan said with a sigh.  Then he collapsed onto the couch and groaned. “I’m so tired…”

“Welcome to Grim Reaper Dispatch Society,” Eric said taking a sip of his drink. He offered the bottle to Alan but the other reaper shook his head.

“You done for the day?” Eric asked, shuffling through some papers.

Alan nodded.  “Yes.”  He stretched, yawning.  “You know… I always knew retrieval would be hard for me…  It always will be.  But I guess I didn’t factor in all of the other tasks a reaper has.”

Eric looked at his friend, who was loosening his tie and unlacing his shoes, his fine features weary and drawn in the soft light.  He remembered well the first few weeks of collecting.  Exhaustion and stress, not to mention he had already started drinking.  He was relieved Alan hadn’t gone down a path like that.

“The beginning’s always overwhelming,” Eric said.  “It comes more naturally later.”

“I’m not sure I want it to,” Alan said quietly, fluffing the pillows beside him.

Eric frowned. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…”  Alan tucked his legs up on the couch and leaned against the soft cushions. “Do you mind if I rest here for a bit?”

“Take a nap if you want,” Eric answered. “I’ll try not to swear too loudly at these documents.”

Alan chuckled softly.  “That’s very kind of you.”

Eric grinned and winked at him before delving back into the chaos that was his work.  The minutes passed slowly, but every time Eric felt like crumpling another one of the files, his gaze would go to Alan, sleeping soundly curled up on the couch, and he would smile and go back to work.  At one point he got up and took up his coat, covering Alan with it and removing the smaller reaper’s glasses.  Alan didn’t wake, only shifted his position a little and sighed softly.  The sound had an anesthetic effect on Eric and his office and work seemed less restraining all of a sudden.

As evening closed in around the city, Eric paused in his labor to turn on the desk lamp and refresh his glass of brandy.  A knock sounded on his door.

“Come in,” he called softly, trying not to wake Alan.

A mild feeling of surprise went through him when the reaper entered. “Shelia,” he greeted his friend, “What are you doing here?”

“Just seeing how you’re doing,” the reaper answered, walking up to the desk and leaning against it.

Eric raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “You needed to check up on my well-being?”

Shelia cocked an eyebrow right back at him, tossing her long orange braid off her shoulder.  “You seemed distracted at lunch.”

Eric tried to remember what he had been thinking about at lunchtime.   _‘Oh yes… how to ask Alan to forget about buying his own flat…’_

“I’m great,” Eric replied.  “But thanks.”

“Is that Alan?” Shelia asked, noticing the reaper sleeping on the couch.

Eric followed her gaze and smiled. “Yup.”

Shelia considered the younger reaper. “You described him perfectly.  What do you do, study his face?”

Eric chuckled.  “I live with the guy, Shelia.  I should be able to describe him.”

“So you two are still sharing a flat?” Shelia perched on the edge of Eric’s desk.  “That’s a new thing; a reaper living with his former mentor.”

“He’s looking for a place,” Eric said, disappointment lingering in his heart.

Shelia nodded, then turned her gaze back to the tall reaper. “So the twenty-eighth… You never answered me completely.  I know you were busy mentoring, but now…”  She touched his hand. “I miss seeing you.”

Eric looked up at her. “Well… I can probably make it.”

A smile grew on Shelia’s face. “It’s going to be pretty low-key compared to last time.  Maybe Alan would like to come too?  Does he enjoy dancing?”

“Oh,” Eric glanced at his sleeping friend.  “I actually don’t know.”

“Well, invite him along,” Shelia said, drawing back. “I have to go.  Got a one more retrieval before checking out.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” Eric said as she headed for the door.

The reaper waved her hand. “Just make sure you come to that party, okay?”

“Count on me,” Eric replied and Shelia flashed a thumbs-up before leaving the room.  Eric shook his head in amusement and went back to work.

I _IIIIII_ I

Morning of the twenty-seventh Eric was woken by a gentle patting on his face.

“Mff, g’way,” he muttered, lifting his arm to block the paw. “Get off the bed, cat.”

A meow sounded in his ear and he groaned, dropping his hand to see the cat sitting on his chest, staring at him.

“What?” he asked shortly, and the cat meowed again.

“You talk a lot, do you know that?”  The reaper pushed back the covers, sending the cat hopping away to the edge of the mattress as he sat up and fumbled for his glasses.  The feline stayed with him as he got dressed but he quickly shut the door before it had the chance to follow him into the bathroom.

“Alan! Feed the cat! She’s following me!”

“Sorry!” came the reply from the kitchen. “Come on, kitty!  Come and eat.”

“Is that thing all healed up?” Eric said when he sat down at the island and shook out the newspaper.  “Have you got a magic touch with animals as well as plants and reapers?”

Alan blushed, sitting across from Eric.  “Oh, I don’t have anything special.  She’s just strong.”

Eric didn’t respond, but inside he knew that wasn’t true.  Alan certainly did have something special, something deeper and softer than anyone else.  Something that allowed him to heal those around him.  Everyone but himself.

“Is your agenda busy today?” Eric asked, taking a sip of tea and a bite of toast.

Alan took his scheduling book from the bag and flipped through it.  “Not at all.  I have a retrieval at seven tonight and that’s it.”

“Lucky,” Eric said, pulling his own schedule from his coat pocket and opening it. “I’ve got retrievals all day.  First one is at eight.”

“You do realize it’s seven fifty now,” Alan pointed out, gesturing to the clock on the wall.

“Crap!”  Eric leapt up, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he ran for the door.  “See you later, Alan!”

Alan smiled, shaking his head after his haphazard friend.  “Bye,” he called as the door slammed.  A few moments later he heard the car peel away from the curb and the engine roared off down the street.

Alan finished his breakfast and tea, folded the newspaper, washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.  The cat was pacing by the door and the reaper went into the hall, taking his sunhat from its hook.

“Good idea, little friend,” he said. “It’s too nice a day to be inside.”

The two of them went out into the sun and Alan set about doing what he could to weed the flower beds while the cat rolled in the grass and chasing butterflies through the herbs.

Alan knelt in the soft dirt by the delphiniums and gently touched the stalk covered in small blue flowers.

“Delphinium means boldness,” he said to the cat, who ignored him as she stalked a blade of grass.  Alan plucked a few weeds from around the base of the flowers and smoothed the soil.  Beside the delphiniums grew pink shell shaped flowers, Alan’s sweetpeas, and he weeded around them too, admiring how the blue and pink sat so well together.

“Shyness,” he noted softly, picking a sweetpea and holding it up.  “Rather like me…”

The other night Eric had asked him to a party that would happen tomorrow.  He had promised it would be fun but not wild, and there would be dancing.  Alan twirled the flower between his fingers as he recalled how he had stammered something about not dancing and refused the invitation.

“This flower fits me, alright,” he said bitterly.  His gaze moved to the bright blue of the delphiniums and he took a single blossom from the stem.  “And how accurately this one fits Eric.  Bold and willing to go out and have fun.”

He assessed the two flowers in his hands and then dropped them to the earth.  “How different…”

His train of thought faded as he moved on to the tulips.  Crouching, he frowned at the colorful petals as the head bobbed in the breeze.  Running his finger along the rim of the petals, he felt the flawed edges of the rip that marred the bloom.

“I think we may have a rabbit, kitty,” he said.  “Odd though…”

_‘I don’t see any marks on the leaves; only the petals.  I should think a rabbit would like the green plants more…’_

Suddenly a hiss came from behind him and he turned to find the Potato standing, fur raised, staring intently at Alan’s tool chest that sat by the house.

The reaper straightened, a flicker of unease running through him.  “What is it?” he asked, taking a step forward.   _‘Please don’t be a skunk,’_ he thought, moving carefully past the cat toward the chest.

Gathering his will, he took the last step and, resting his hands on the lid, looked into the gap between the house and the crate.


	29. Unmei

“Hello, Eric.  You look rather busy.”

Eric glanced up from his scheduling book.  He had been heading blindly down the street toward his car and almost bumped into Mr. Eccles as the teacher walked up to him.

“Sorry,” the reaper answered. “Yes; I had retrievals all day and still have one more.”

“Fun,” Eccles said dryly.  “I won’t keep you then.”

“Talk to you later,” Eric said with a smile, then turned again after he had gone a few steps. “Still seeing you next Sunday?”

“Wouldn’t miss Alan’s cooking for the world,” the teacher replied with a wave.  “After all, it’s one of the last dinners with you two living together; make the most of Alan’s meals!”

“Right,” Eric said, slowing his pace as Eccles continued on his way.  “One of the last.”

Getting into his car, he turned the radio up and reopened his book to the day’s final workload.  Seven ‘o’ clock.  Reading the retrieval information, he rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses, a heavy feeling settling on his shoulders.  He cast aside the book, tossing it into the passenger seat, and shifted the car into gear.  He would pick up Alan and drive both of them to London; it would be easier for Alan than walking.

When he pulled up outside the house Alan was just leaving the gate and Eric beeped the horn to get his attention.  Alan started and turned, heading toward the vehicle when he saw it was Eric.  As he opened the door, Eric snatched up his scheduling book and closed it, shoving it into his bag.  There was no need for Alan to see the retrieval he had that evening.

“Hey,” he said as Alan settled in and buckled his seatbelt. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Alan answered, tucking his bag by his feet.  “I played with the cat in the yard for a while.  She rolled on some of the lavender, but it’s okay.”

“That’s a relief,” Eric said, driving down the road.

“How was your day?”

“Lots of bouncing from place to place,” the tall reaper answered, turning the corner.  “I spent most of the time in London.”

“You didn’t have to come back and pick me up,” Alan said and Eric waved his hand.

“Ah, I had been back at the office anyway.  No big deal.  Sendyn says he’s looking forward to your cooking.”

“He always says that.  He’s far too kind.”

They talked briefly of their friends for a short time but became quiet when they reached the Pathway.  The mist closed around the car and seemed to cut off their words, trapping them inside their heads as fragmented thoughts.

 _‘Damn retrieval,’_ Eric thought.   _‘I hope Alan is far away from that part of town.’_

 _‘Please let Eric be far from that part of town,’_ Alan said to himself as he watched the passing fog.   _‘He’ll worry about me if he sees what I have been assigned to.’_

Not long after, they stood at the end of the bridge, folders in hand.

I’m going to the North edge of London,” Alan said.

“Me too,” Eric replied, and the two reapers looked at one another.

“North Side…?” Eric asked and Alan nodded.

“We have the same retrieval assignment, don’t we,” he sighed.

“Looks that way,” Eric said quietly.  “For larger numbers, reapers are often assigned in pairs.”

“Let’s do it then,” Alan said in an unsteady tone, stepping off the bridge.  Eric followed, his heart heavy.

The building had already settled when they arrived, the rubble of the fallen walls mounded around the blackened beams that arched into the air like broken bones.  Alan’s shoes ground small stones into the soft earth as they approached the fallen house.  Everything was in ruins, but the words _North Side Boys Home_ was still visible on the charred wood sign lying on the ground.

Eric had opened his book and was reading the assignment, scythe propped on his shoulder.

“How many?” Alan asked.

“Eight,” the tall reaper answered.

Walking forward, Alan drew nearer to the heart of the debris, treading carefully on the smashed glass.  The smell of smoke tainted the air, and the lingering flames were dying down to glowing embers.  Something glinted near his foot and he bent, picking up a photograph, the frame splintered around it.  A smiling group looked out at him from behind cracked glass, three women and six boys.

“Alan.”

The reaper turned at Eric’s voice and found him standing a little ways away, close to what Alan assumed had been the front door.  By the way in which Eric spoke Alan knew he did not want to see what his friend was looking at.  But he moved closer, as if his legs had a mind of their own, and soon he was standing beside Eric.

His gaze dragged over the huddled figures, the two women shielding the three children from the falling home, not standing a chance against the stone that feel from weak beams.  The smallest figure, sheltered by his family, lay bruised and battered but alive, asleep amongst the others.

Alan crouched, gently touching the boy’s cheek, wiping a smudge of soot from his chin.  

“Someone will come for him.” Eric promised, before stepping past the people into the main hall where the third woman and three more boys lay.

“Let’s send them on their way,” he said quietly.

Alan nodded, numb and speechless, taking his scythe from his side as Eric raised his own.  The two reapers worked cleanly, freeing the souls from their broken bodies.  Eric lifted the records, eyes reading their life story, and then releasing them in a flash of blue light.

Alan released the woman and the younger boy, but as he took the oldest boys soul, he was hit by the sudden feeling of determination.

 _‘You cannot stay,’_ he thought.   _‘You have to move on now.’_

The record of the boy fought in his grasp, and Alan held it gently, taking in his short life as it flowed.  When the end flickered into view, Alan closed his eyes for a moment.

“Please understand I am sorry,” he whispered, then with a quick swipe, set him free.

“Someone will come for the youngest boy,” Eric repeated again.  “He will be cared for.”

Alan nodded, grateful for the words, then turned and walked quickly to the edge of the ruins, hurriedly dashing the tears from his eyes.  Eric followed more slowly.

“The dead were very young this time...” Alan said quietly, sitting on the low wall that surrounded the fallen home.  He had never collected a soul so pure and innocent.  He could still feel the boy’s life on his skin, his resolve to survive.  “I could have warned him... He would have been able to fight for his dreams…” A fresh tear rolled down his cheek and he turned his face away too late.

Eric voice was filled with worry.  “Are you crying?  Alan?”

Alan didn’t answer, trying to focus on something else, and his eyes found the colorful heather in the yard.

“These are erica flowers,” he said, reaching down and running the tiny bell shapes flowers through his fingers.

Eric stepped closer, looking down.  “They are called erica, these flowers?”

Alan picked a stalk, breathing in the scent of the blossoms.  “Yes.  In the language of the flowers they mean loneliness.”

“Loneliness…” Eric said, and Alan could hear the concern in his voice, feel it as he moved closer.

“All people are alone…” Alan answered. “From their birth to their last moment…”

“What do you mean they’re lonely?”

Alan looked up at Eric. “Eh?” he asked.

Eric spread his hands, motioning to the carpet of color before them.  “There are so many of them blooming together,” he replied.  “And maybe we’re alone when we’re born and die, but like these ericas, there will always be someone blooming beside you.”  The tall reaper looked up into the sky, taking a deep breath and smiling.  “For eternity…”

Alan rose to his feet, looking over the flowers.  They swayed gently and a sudden feeling of passion washed over him, so strong he felt almost dizzy.  He turned his gaze to Eric, who was standing, hands on hips, breathing in the fresh air.  And as Alan looked at him, his golden hair fluffed by the breeze, his tall stature relaxed, his presence warm and powerful…his heart yearned to be enfolded completely in that warmth.

The emotion startled Alan and he lifted his hand, unconsciously reaching toward Eric, wanting to stay close to him forever.  Then he caught himself and drew back.

Instead he spoke.  “You sure like to act cool, don’t you, Eric,” he said.

Eric turned, grinning.  “Ah!” he said, pointing at Alan teasingly. “You should try it sometime!”

The two of them chuckled, the dark mood lifting like a cloud chased by the sun, and they moved to go back into London.  Before they had gone a few steps, the wind suddenly picked up, causing them to turn back to the ericas.

A smile grew on Alan’s face and his heart lightened.  “The petals are soaring! It’s like snow…

“Ah, so it is…” Eric replied, watching as the wind lifted the petals and sent them dancing over their heads.  Alan lifted his hand and let the flowers drift through his fingers.  Eric moved his gaze to his friend and felt any weight on his chest vanish as Alan smiled up at the sky.  The younger reaper giggled softly and brushed his hair from his eyes, meeting Eric’s gaze.

The tall reaper smiled back and gazed up at the floating blossoms, his soul light and free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a rather special chapter to write... It's a literal translation of the scene that is shown when Alan's cinematic record plays at the end of the musical. It was a little difficult to write this scene but I am happy with how it turned out. I can't lie-I cried while typing.   
> I hope you enjoy it.   
> Thank you so much for reading and continuing to read this story. ♥


	30. Heartbeat Melody

It was dark when they arrived home, and Alan dropped his bag on the kitchen floor with a sigh.  Potato ran up to greet him and he dropped to one knee, scratching the soft fur behind her ears.

Behind him, Eric flipped on the kitchen light and picked up Alan’s bag, setting both of their packs on the table.

“I can heat up the soup from last night,” Eric said, going to the fridge. “I don’t think I can ruin that.”

Alan smiled, grateful.  “That would be great,” he answered. “I’m going to change.”

Eric nodded and set about firing up the stove as Alan headed down the hall to the bathroom.  Inside, he placed his glasses on the counter and splashed his face with warm water, wishing he could wash away to sorrow weighing him down.  Resting his hands on the edge of the sink, the reaper looked in the mirror, considering his reflection.

“I’ve never collected a soul that young,” he told the image of himself.  “I knew it would happen eventually, and I was scared how I would react.”

Sometimes when he got home, all he would want to do was take a long hot shower, as if he could scrub away the feel of death that lingered on his skin.  The heat and comfort would often make him feel better, and he would fall asleep in peace that night, but there were the days that the sensation of death would stay on his skin like a stain.  The water rolled off like he was covered in oil, and the hurt and sense of mortality clung on like it was trying to drown him.

But tonight Alan kept the feel of the boy’s soul close to his chest; as if the memory could keep the child alive in a disconnected way.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes.   _‘I’m glad Eric was there.  I need him…’_

His ears picked up the sound of Eric’s muted voice talking to the cat in the kitchen, the tall reaper’s tone surprisingly civil to the feline despite his obvious initial dislike of her.  What would he do in his lonely apartment when he moved out of Eric’s flat?  What would fill in the empty space when Eric was no longer around every night to talk with, play cards with, just _be_ with?  Who would he cook for?

 _‘The more important question is,’_ Alan thought, putting his glasses back on, _‘What do I do with the feelings that I found not an hour ago?'_

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the reaper pinched the bridge of his nose to slow the potential headache that was building in his temple.  He didn’t feel sick, no, he felt something else, something dizzying and fantastic and terrifying all at once.  He didn’t dare to think the words that lurked at the back of his mind, but it was impossible to ignore the essence of joy he had felt when looking at Eric.  The light-headedness had not been from the scent of the erica flowers, and Alan knew he had experienced it before.

Whether it had been when Eric was wearing an apron, or cleaning up to go to work, or driving with one hand relaxed on the steering wheel, Alan had felt it, though never had it hit him so hard as today.

 _“I can’t,’_ he thought, _‘I can’t feel this.  …But why not?  Just because I never have loved before does it mean it’s wrong?’_

There. He had thought it.   _Love_.  Was this what everyone spoke of?  That feeling of happiness that ran so deep it almost hurt?  Placing his hand over his heart, Alan had little doubt this was anything else….

He barely had time to worry about this newfound awareness when his eyes fell on his watch and he realized he had been sitting in the bathroom for over twenty minutes.  It would be a miracle if Eric hadn’t burned the soup already, though he was getting better at cooking.  Rising to his feet, Alan ran his fingers through his hair and glanced in the mirror.  To his astonishment, he saw tears on his cheeks, though he hadn’t felt himself cry.

“It’s not grief,” he said to himself, wiping his face clean.  “I’m not sad when I think of Eric.”

Giving himself a wavering smile in the mirror, the reaper left the bathroom and went to his room.   Opening his trousers drawer, he absentmindedly went through the different pairs, not really focusing on what he was doing.

 _‘What should I do?’_  he wondered.   _‘What should I say?’_ He rested his elbow on the lip of the drawer and propped his chin in hand.   _‘Hey, Eric, I love you.  Anything new with you?’_  Suddenly a thought hit him and he sat back, staring down at nothing.

“Oh, of course.  What if he doesn’t feel the same…?”

The idea almost physically hurt and Alan bit his lip to keep his emotions in check.  What would Eric say if he knew the feelings Alan was holding?  What was the tall reaper’s outlook on their relationship?

_‘Am I just… a friend?'_

Glancing toward the door, Alan heard Eric’ cheerful scolding to the cat and sighed.   _‘If you really want to know, why don’t you ask him?  But I could never… …Why not?’_

Getting to his feet, the reaper headed to the kitchen, unwavering at first, but as he moved down the hall, each step faltered more than the last and at the kitchen door he stopped completely.

_‘Just… ask.’_

Peering around the door-frame, Alan watched as Eric stirred the soup, shirtsleeves rolled up and the newspaper in his hand, reading the headlines.  After a moment the tall reaper seemed to sense Alan’s presence and turned, looking toward the door.

“I thought you were changing?”

“Oh, yes,” Alan said, his heart racing.  He felt a blush growing on his cheeks.  “I just wanted to…  I thought that…”  He coughed.  “There’s some bread in the cabinet that could be sliced as a side for the soup.”

Eric nodded in agreement, tossing the paper aside and opening the cabinet door.  “Good idea.”

“I’ll go get changed now…”

Alan drew back and sagged against the wall in the corridor, putting his hands over his face.   _‘Brilliant, Alan!  You just can’t do anything without becoming overly sensitive, can you!’_

Going dejectedly back to his room, he pulled on the first pair of trousers he could find and opened his closet to look for his lavender cardigan.  He found it, but in taking it off the hanger, pulled a bit too hard and it slipped from his fingers, vanishing down into the corner of the closet.

“Oh, bugger!” Alan said, irritated, staring after the shirt.  Eric still had several boxes of who knows what in this closet, and Alan leaned over them, reaching down into the darkness, feeling for his lost cardigan.  A few seconds of grunting later, his fingers brushed the cloth just as the box he was leaning on crumpled a little under his weight.

With an ‘oomf!’ Alan found himself looking at his cardigan and the object it had landed on.

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric congratulated himself on actually remembering to turn off the burner under the soup before setting to the task of slicing bread.

“No charcoal for dinner tonight,” he promised the cat, who looked at him and meowed.  “What?” he asked.  “Are you hungry?  Do you want to eat?”

The feline’s ears perked at that and she trotted over to wind herself around his ankles.

“You have to let me walk if you want to eat!” the tall reaper said, untangling himself from her before going to the refrigerator and opening the door.  Studying the shelves, he looked for her favorite food.  He knew Alan had left a container of chopped potatoes somewhere in the fridge…

“Ah,” he said triumphantly, snatching up the small dish and setting it on the floor by the trash bins.  “There you go.”

The cat purred her thanks and set about gobbling down the food as fast as she could.  Eric shook his head in amusement and went back to the table to spread butter on the bread.  Alan came into the kitchen a few moments later and when Eric looked up he was surprised to see what the reaper had in his hands.

“Where did you find that?” he asked, eyes taking in the beat up old acoustic Alan held.

“In my closet behind all of those boxes,” Alan replied, setting it down so the neck leaned against the table.  “Do you play?”

Eric brushed the crumbs from his hands and shrugged. “I used too. I wasn’t great at it, but I enjoyed it for a time.”

Seeing the old guitar brought back memories of his early years at the Dispatch.  It had come into his possession when he had been attempting to break his drinking habit and find another outlet for his depression.  Someone had suggested music to him and he had gone down to a junk shop and bought the battered thing.  For a short time it had distracted him, but not even the soothing chords could heal him and soon the guitar had ended up in a closet.  Alan’s closet, as he now recalled.

“Could you play something?” Alan asked hesitantly, unsure of Eric’s feelings toward the instrument.

Eric chuckled and pulled out a chair.  “I doubt I remember much,” he said, sitting down and picking up the guitar.  Running his fingers over the strings, he cringed at the sound. “I hope it can be tuned.”

As Eric carefully turned the pegs at the head, Alan sank down to the floor, resting his back against a cabinet.  He watched Eric gently turn the strings so their sound came smooth and melodic.

“I think that’s it,” the tall reaper said. “I’m a little rusty.”  Holding the guitar properly in his hands he adjusted his fingers on the neck and strummed uncertainly.

“It sounds good,” Alan said, smiling.  “I like it.”

Eric grinned back and began playing a song Alan didn’t know, strumming and awkwardly moving his fingers on the strings, slowly finding the rhythm of the instrument again.  Alan closed his eyes, soaking in the music as if it was a blanket he could pull around his shoulders.  Eric’s uncertainty soon vanished and the missed notes and wrong chords left with it.

Alan lifted his eyelids as Eric set into a fast paced tune and watched the reaper as he played.  The reaper’s entire body got into the music, as if he were channeling the sound from deep within.  Cherishing the joy on Eric’s face, Alan sighed inwardly.

 _‘I wish I could be that guitar,’_ he thought.   _‘Just to feel his arms around me.'_

“Give me a song,” Eric said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts.

“Me?” Alan hesitated. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” his friend insisted, picking at the strings.  “Any song.”

Alan racked his mind but could think of nothing off the top of his head.  Eric began strumming various beginnings to different songs and Alan recognized none of them until the reaper played a softer melody.

“Wait,” he said, “go back.”

Eric stopped the song he was about to play next and readjusted his fingers. “You know that one?”

“Yes…” Alan paused, then spoke quietly.  “I don’t know when I have heard it, but it is a beautiful song.  I think it’s called ‘Unmei’…”

“Indeed it is,” Eric said quietly, and gently began strumming.  The chords filled the kitchen and when the time was right, Eric began to sing.

“I will commit any sin if that allows me to share your pain…  When you die I will kiss your icy cheek once…”

He faltered, unsure of the words, and Alan stepped in.

“Let’s go on a trip…”

“Let’s go on a trip,” Eric joined him, falling into the duet beside Alan.

“Starting from today, the two of us.”

“Piling up the ericas’ loneliness.”

“Piling up our lonely shadows.”

“I was born alone…” Alan’s voice caught on the line, but Eric’ gentle singing carried the next part.

“Yes the reason I was born alone…”

“To lean close to you,” Alan sang, his soft tone mixing with Eric’s strong one.

“Is so that the two of us could meet.”

“My friend that is our fate…”

“My friend since that is our fate…”

Alan’s eyes were wet as he sang the line.  “We don’t need tears anymore.”

“We don’t need tears anymore,” Eric finished, sending the last chord into the air before silence fell in the kitchen.

Alan wiped his face with the back of his hand. “And after we just said we don’t need tears.”

“Tears are okay,” Eric said, setting aside the guitar and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Alan looked up at the tall reaper. “It was lovely though. I enjoyed that.”

“Me too,” Eric smiled.  They fell into a comfortable silence while Alan wiped all the tears from his eyes and the cat started washing herself in the corner.  Eric’s eyes rested on the new flat pamphlets still sitting on the table and picked them up.  Then he slid off the chair to kneel in front of Alan, who glanced up at him in surprise.

Eric held up the pamphlets in front of the smaller reaper’s face.  “See these?”

“Yes?” Alan answered, confused.

Eric folded the papers in half and reached over Alan’s shoulder to drop them in the trash.  “You don’t need them.” He pointed to the cat. “See that cat? You can keep it on one condition.”

“Okay,” Alan said, bewildered at Eric’s words.

“It has to live here,” Eric said. “Not in any other flat anywhere; got it?”

What he was saying seemed to click with Alan at that moment and the other reaper laughed shakily.

“Oh, thank god,” he said.  “I never wanted to move out, Eric.”

Eric’s heart lifted. “Good,” he replied, getting up and sitting back in the chair.  Relief was filling him to an overwhelming degree and he couldn’t stop smiling. “Don’t you think we should give her a name though?”

Both looked at the cat, who was licking between her toes.  Sensing their eyes on her, she glanced up.

“I’ve been calling her something in my head,” Alan said.  “But it’s silly.”

 “Not as silly as what I have been calling her,” Eric admitted.

“And what’s that?”

“Potato,” Eric said unabashed.  Alan laughed.

“Well! That’s what I’ve been calling her too!”

Eric chuckled. “Seems appropriate, doesn’t it?”

“Very,” Alan agreed.  Then he suddenly stood. “Oh!  There is one more thing, before you can completely agree I should live with you…”

“What is it?” Eric asked, watching as Alan quickly left the room.  A few moments the later the reaper returned and to Eric’s astonishment, he was holding a large cat in his arms.

“You found another one?” Eric asked, standing and taking the feline from Alan.  “When?”

“He was in the garden,” Alan sighed. “Eating the flowers.  I thought it was a rabbit but turned out to be him.  I’ve been calling him Blossom.”

Eric looked at the fat cat in his arms.  Blossom was a soft fuzzy gray and looked up at the reaper sleepily.  Another cat, but Eric didn’t mind at all.

“So it’ll be a family of four,” he said, and Alan smiled, relived that Eric didn’t care that there was a second feline.

“Sounds good to me,” he said, stooping to pick up Potato.  He kissed the cat on the top of her head and Eric held Blossom out so the two cats could touch noses.

“I think I like our family,” Eric said, filled with a sudden happiness he didn’t know he could feel.  Taking Alan’s shoulder, he hugged the smaller reaper, squishing the cats between them.  Alan smiled and moved as close as he could to Eric, hoping the tall reaper wouldn’t notice how fast his heart was beating.


	31. Death Scythe

_‘A family.  I can totally roll with this.’_

Suddenly calling Alan his family wasn’t hard at all.  In fact, he had lain in bed thinking about it quite extensively last night.  Now there was no worrying that Alan would move out and that took a weight off his chest.

“All is well,” Eric said to Potato, who was curled up on his stomach.  “Now get up.  I have work.”

The cat jumped off the bed and ran out the partially open door as Eric tossed back the covers and stretched.  Running his hand through his hair, he went into the small bathroom adjoined to his room and flipped on the light.  Studying his reflection, he leaned in so his nose almost touched the mirror.

“Hm,” he said, scrutinizing his hair.  His dark brown roots were beginning to show again against the golden blond.  It was almost time for another dying session.  Ignoring his hair for the time being, he washed his face and stripped to his boxers just as he heard the phone ringing from the kitchen.

“It’s for you, Eric!” Alan’s voice called down the hall.

“Be right there!” the tall reaper replied, quickly yanking on his trousers and grabbing his belt, shirt and tie.

Heading down the hall, he guessed the caller was Shelia.  It was the twenty-eighth after all and he hadn’t given her solid confirmation he was going to the party.  Entering the kitchen, Alan was pouring hot water into Eric’s teacup.

“It’s Will,” he said, dashing Eric’s hopes.  “He’s says it’s about a meeting.”

Eric sighed and picked up the phone. “Hello, Will.”

“Slingby, did you forget about the meeting this morning?”

Eric glanced at the clock. “It’s only 8:00.  I thought the meeting was at 8:15.”

Will’s exasperation was apparent even over the phone. “And you think you can make it in fifteen minutes?”

“Of course,” Eric said, taking the cup of tea from Alan, who was giving him a ‘seriously?’ look.  “Less than fifteen minutes.”

“You aren’t even fully dressed, are you,” Will sighed. “Very well, I will believe you can make it, but I am not waiting a second past starting time.  If you are not sitting in that chair when I call attendance, I’m counting it as an absence even if you arrive a moment after.”

“Count on me,” Eric said, and put the receiver back in its place.

“Fifteen minutes?” Alan asked. “Really?”

“Who needs breakfast?” Eric asked, yanking his shirt on and running his belt through the loops on his trousers.  Alan rubbed his eyes.

“Everyone needs breakfast, Eric.”

“I was hoping it would be Shelia,” Eric said, taking the sandwich Alan was forcing into his hands.  He took a bite, speaking through a mouthful of bread and egg.  “There’s a thing tonight.”

“Oh, Shelia,” Alan said, wiping off the table.  “You’ve talked about her but I’ve never met her.”

“She’s great,” Eric insisted, stuffing the entire sandwich into his mouth as he did up his tie. “‘uper ‘ice.”

“And she’ll be at this party tonight?” 

Eric nodded, taking the sandwich out of his mouth.  “Hey, you riding with me to work?”

Alan shook his head. “I don’t have to be in until nine. I’ll walk.”

“Okay,” Eric said.  He glanced at the clock, which now read 8:05.  “Well, I’m off.  Thanks for the sandwich.”

“Anytime,” Alan said, handing Eric a bag with his lunch.  The reaper spoke his thanks and ran for the hall.  Leaning against the counter, Alan sighed.

“Shelia, huh?” he said to Blossom, who wandered into the room.  Crouching, he petted the cat as Eric shouted farewell and the front door slammed.  “Well… I can’t stop him from loving who he will…”

Alan was not the type to be jealous, and he didn’t feel envy now, but sadness ate away at the part of his heart that held his love for Eric. 

I _IIIIII_ I

Lunchtime.

“And so now we’ve got two cats living with us,” Eric said, and from across the table Joy laughed.

“Never knew you to be a cat person, Eric!”

Eric grinned and took a forkful of spaghetti from the container in front of him.  “I know.  But I don’t mind them.  Potato is like a mini heater at night.  She’ll be great in winter.”

Shelia took a drink of her pop and leaned on the table. “So you’re living together now? For sure?”

Eric nodded. “I couldn’t just let him go off by himself.”

“He needs you to take care of him?” Joy asked and Eric shook his head.

“Heck no.  I need him to take care of me!”

The entire table laughed loudly at that, getting sour looks from the other reapers around the room who were trying to work and eat at the same time.  A dark haired reaper leaned forward.

“Are you planning on joining us for more nights out?”

“Don’t worry, Drake,” Eric said, “What with mentoring done, Shelia’s made me promise to attend more parties.”

“I missed you!” the orange haired reaper said, nudging his shoulder, and Eric grinned.

“Seriously though, man,” Drake pressed, “that Alan guy doesn’t like to drink?  What sort of a man is he?”

A spark of anger ignited in Eric.  “Who says you have to drink to have fun?”

Joy whistled.  “The Slingby I know wouldn’t ever have said _that_!”

“I’m a little different,” Eric said, stabbing his fork into his pasta.  He swirled the utensil in the noodles, watching them wind around the metal.  He felt Shelia’s hand on his shoulder.

“That’s okay,” she said with a look at Drake.  “We still like you!  And not everyone needs to drink, Drake.”

Drake shrugged. “I would just miss Eric’s entertainment if he ended up passing us off for some guy he’s living with.”

At that moment the clock on the wall chimed one and Eric pushed himself to his feet.  “Back to work for me,” he said shortly.  Gathering up his lunch things, he shoved back his chair and left the table.  Dumping his leftover pasta in the trash, he exited the room and headed back to his office.

He wished Alan would have been free for lunch.  Then they all would have seen what sort of a reaper he was.  All of the wonderful, kind, and beautiful in one delicate package.  He could have met Shelia.

Shelia… she was the nicest to him of the group.  Did the others just see him as another partier to have fun with?  Eric believed Shelia saw him as a friend; she really had missed him when he was busy mentoring Alan.

_‘But if I went back to partying every night, I would miss Alan.  If only he would come to the dance party tomorrow!  I could have them all meet him.  Then they would see why I cherish him so much.’_

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan wished he could have gone to lunch, but he had something to pick up.  Not long ago, he had placed an order for a very important item and had received a letter that morning saying it was ready.

“This is over-powering,” he’d said one night as he and Eric sat at the table going over a booklet. “There are too many kinds.”

“This isn’t even all of it” Eric had said, “You can request custom death scythes too.”

Alan had looked overwhelmed at that and Eric tapped the book. “Let’s just focus on picking one out of here that you like.  Then you can sleep on it and maybe think of some why you’d like to alter it.”

Alan had nodded and went back to slowly flipping the pages.  Large blades, small blades, garden tools of all kinds… The weight of it was heavy on his shoulders, but it came from more than just the difficult choice of deciding what style to pick.  This was what he would harvest souls with; it was a step up from the small one he used now.  The scythes tore souls from bodies and here they were, pictured in the booklet as casually as the flowers in the catalogs he bought.

“I don’t know, he sighed eventually. “I can’t choose right now.”

“That’s fine, Eric had said with a shrug. “I wanted a lawn-mower at first.”  He shook his head. “They’re awful.  My advice: don’t go for the powered ones.  Even Grell’s is hell to handle.”

That night Alan had been sorting the seeds in in flower box and his eyes fell on the book again.  The pressure to decide had lifted a bit and he drew it over, leafing through the sheets of paper, studying each scythe.  Finally his eyes settled on one.

It was a Japanese garden slasher, one with a long handle, but the curved tip intimidated him.  It was too vivid an image of the classic wheat-scythe.  The kind artists drew in dark images depicting what humans imagined a reaper to be.  All black cloaks and skeletal face.

“Who knew death was a corporate business?” Alan though grimly.  Still, something about the slasher appealed to him and when Eric got home he showed him.

“I like it,” the tall reaper said.  “We can order it tomorrow when we go in.”

They had done just that, but when they had gone down to the Administrative Department, Alan had asked about alternate blades.

“We have this one,” the reaper said, showing him a picture in a supplement booklet.  That one was straighter, a rectangle that narrowed slightly at the end that attached to the long wooden handle.

“I’ll take it,” Alan nodded.

Now he walked quickly to the Death Scythe Department.  When he entered, he was blown away by the number of scythes in the place.  On the walls, on tables, leaning against chairs.  A frizzy-haired reaper wearing gigantic magnifying glasses looked up from where he was scraping a stone along one blade.

“Hiya!” he said. “Come for a scythe?”

“I ordered one, yes,” Alan replied.  “For Alan Humphries?”

“Ah, the slasher!” the reaper grinned. “I’ll get it!”  He hopped up and darted off into a back room, returning seconds later with the scythe.  Holding out, he rambled on: “It’s quite a nice one; unusual end, most have the curve, but I like it. Bet you will too! I made this one, by the way.  You gonna be able to handle it?”

Alan took the scythe in his hands tentatively.  It was weighty, but in a secure way.  Stepped back, he brought it down in a clean swipe and a shiver of dread went through him at the easy way it sliced the air.  “It’ll do perfectly,” he confirmed.

“It’ll collect a lot of souls, that one will,” the scythe reaper smiled.  He whipped some crumpled papers out of his pocket. “Just sign here and you can use it!”

Alan did so and left, the reaper waving after him.  In the hall, he ran his hand over the wood, inspected the sharp edge, did a few experimental twirls.  It was much smoother than his student one.  He caught sight of his reflection the shiny surface and was rocketed back in time to a moment when he had held Eric’s death scythe…

“It seems like it would be hard to use,” he’d noted one day on a retrieval.  They’d been assigned to the same job and Eric had used his scythe with such elegance, as usual.

“Want to hold it?” Eric asked, and Alan had hesitantly taken the scythe.  It was heavy and felt like death in his hands. He’d tried to hide his shudder and given it back.

 _‘I wonder if mine will feel like that someday_ ,’ he wondered as he walked down the hall.   _‘So stained with death I can feel it…’_

A shiver did rack his body now and he tried not to think about it as he went to find Eric.  Already the death scythe was feeling comfortable in his hands.


	32. Move to the Beat of the Music

The smell of hair dye filled the flat as Eric opened the bathroom door.  He had gotten around to recoloring his roots before leaving for the party.  Going into his room he glanced at the clock.  Seven ‘o’ clock it read.  According to Shelia, the dancing was set to begin at the club around seven thirty. Yanking a t-shirt over his head, Eric did up his studded belt before checking himself out in the mirror.  Grabbing his black coat from the floor, he turned out the light and went through his office into the living room.

Alan was sitting on the sofa, work papers spread out on the cushion next to him, and Eric could tell he wasn’t happy with them from the tenseness of his shoulders.  The tall reaper rounded the sofa and sat on the arm, pulling on his jacket and glancing at the papers.

“Having fun?” he asked.

Alan sighed and glanced up at him. “I’m almost finished.”

Eric looked at his watch. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.  You should really come.”

Alan looked down.  “A dance party?  I don’t think I could.”

Eric wanted to ask why not.  Was it the dancing? The people? The drinking?  But Alan had said no before and Eric didn’t push it.  He simply stood and touched the reaper gently on the shoulder.

“I wish you would.”

Alan looked back up at him and, gazing into Eric’s green eyes, he wanted to go.  He wanted to go so badly.

_‘But I’m no fun.’_

So he shook his head.  “Thank you, but I have a book to read.”

Eric drew back and Alan yearned for the touch of his hand.  “Alright.  Well, I’ll see you later.”  The tall reaper smiled.  “And I promise there will be no hangovers in the morning.”

Alan nodded.  “Okay.”

Then Eric was gone and time slowed to a crawl until Alan’s eyes closed and he fell asleep.

_Knock knock!_

The rapping on the door jolted Alan out of his sleep and he lifted his head from the sofa, peeling a work paper off his cheek.  Rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes, he got to his feet and went into the hall. The peephole revealed Thom standing and waving on the landing, and Alan unlocked the door, smiling at his friend.

“Hello, Thom,” he said, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Thom said, heading into the kitchen, Alan following.

“What’s up?” Alan asked, turning on the kitchen lights.  Both Potato and Blossom came trotting into the kitchen and Thom stooped to pet them.

“Not much,” the reaper answered. “This Blossom?”

“The big one, yes,” Alan answered, leaning on the counter.  Thom grinned and scratched the feline behind his ears before straightening.

“So you didn’t go to the party either?”

That surprised Alan. “You were invited?”

“Sort of,” Thom said, sitting on a stool.  Alan did the same.  “Some girl asked Sammy to go and said I could come too.”

“But you didn’t,” Alan noted.  He wondered why. He knew Thom sometimes went to gatherings in London.

“I just wasn’t in the mood to dance,” Thom said, stretching his arms.  “I made sure it was going to be a safe party, obviously.  Or I would’ve told Sammy I didn’t like her going.”

“Eric’s there,” Alan said, resting his chin in his hand and gazing out the window.  “I’m sure they’ll have a great time, knowing them.”

“There’s no doubt about that,” Thom laughed.  Then he looked hard at Alan. “Why didn’t you go?”

“Me?” Alan shrugged. “Oh, not in the mood either, I guess.  Eric wanted me too but… I don’t know.”

“Shelia said it was going to be laid back,’” Thom said, “not wild at all.”

“Shelia?” Alan raised an eyebrow at Thom. “Seems she gets around to everyone.”

“She’s fun,” Thom agreed.  “She’s not a wild as some of the others and likes to coordinate some events so everyone can enjoy them.”

Alan turned his gaze back out to the window.   ‘ _Everyone.  Even me?  Eric, you wished I would go…’_

“Um, Alan?” Thom asked, leaning over to wave his hand in front of the other reaper’s eyes.  “You still with me?”

Alan spun to face Thom. “Yes, I’m here.”  He slid off his stool and grabbed the plates left over from dinner off the table, setting them in the sink.  “I have to get changed.”

“Why?” Thom asked, looking puzzled.

Alan wiped his hands on the dishcloth and headed for the doorway.  “I’m going to the party.  Interested?”

Thom’s eyes widened. “Really?  Sure, I guess I’ll go if you are.  We can both ride on my bike, easy.”

“Great,” Alan replied.  “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

_‘What are you doing, Alan?’_

The thought repeated itself in his mind as he undressed.   _‘What on earth are you doing, going to a party?  And what on earth are you going to wear?’_

“Suits, cardigans and more suits!” he said, opening his closet.  Going through his trousers he found a pair of gray jeans that he had no idea where they came from and tugged them on. All he had for shirts were white button ups, old gardening tops and a few home shirts.  He chose a light gray one that wasn’t too obviously homey and put a lavender vest over it. He would have preferred a different color, but his other two vests were for work only. Hurrying into the bathroom his brushed his hair and then stepped back to study himself in the full-length mirror hanging behind the door.

Putting his hand on his hip, he turned, shyly posing.  Blushing, he adjusted his vest. “What am I thinking?” he asked his reflection, and reached for the door handle.

When he entered the kitchen, Thom stood from his seat, grinning. “Nice, man.  You look good.”

Alan looked down at himself. “Thank you.  Let’s go.”

Thom’s bike had a seat big enough for two, as he often cycled Sam around with him.  Alan sat unsteadily on the back and Thom pushed against the pedals, steering the bike down the street toward the bridge.  It wasn’t a short ride, but Thom had had plenty of practice with his sister and was hardly winded when they finally reached the street the place was on.

“That’s it,” Tom said, pointing as he steered with one hand.  “The Night Owl.  Dance club and bar.”

Alan looked around Thom’s shoulder to where cheery light spilled from the club’s windows.  A sign with a green and blue owl on it clearly read. ‘The Night Owl’ in curly letters.  Thom came to a halt by the curb and put his foot down to balance the bike.  “You go on in; I’ve got to lock this up around the side.”

“Oh, okay.” Alan hopped off and Thom pulled away before he could say anything else.  Turning to face the entrance of the Night Owl in the glow of the streetlamps, Alan felt his heart beat faster.

“What am I doing?” he asked aloud as he moved toward the door.

I _IIIIII_ I

“Hey, hot stuff, wanna dance?”

Eric turned to see Shelia had joined him at the bar.  She was wearing a rust colored bodice and a skirt that would probably look great if he spun her in a circle, but he wasn’t in the mood.

“No thanks,” he replied, his gaze going back to the door of the club.  Shelia’s eyes followed his and she leaned on the bar top.

“Still hoping he’ll come?”

Eric nodded.  “Yeah.  He won’t though.  He’s not the type.”

Shelia patted him on the arm.  “It’s okay.  Hey, want to step out for a smoke?”

“I won’t have one, but I’ll join you.”  Eric tore his gaze from the unopened door and followed Shelia through the crowd to the back door.  Outside a few others, including Drake, were already filling the alleyway with smoke that curled up into the warm air.

“Nice to see you decided to come tonight,” Drake said.  He offered Eric a cigarette but the tall reaper shook his head.  Shrugging, Drake lit a new one for himself.  “Your student didn’t come?”

“He’s more of the stay at home type,” Eric said.

“What a loser,” one of the other reapers scoffed and Eric frowned.

“He’s just different.  He’s special.”

“Sutcliff is ‘special’ too but you don’t see her locked up in a flat on a party night,” Drake said.  “Why did you even invite the guy to stay?  He’s a dud.”

“That’s not very nice,” Shelia said with a frown, snuffing out her cigarette on the wall of the building.

Drake shrugged. “I just don’t want Eric to be nailed down by this guy.  I mean, come on; a gardener?  That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

Eric’s façade of tolerance cracked at that.  He shoved Drake against the wall, pinning him by his shoulder.  The reaper’s friends took a step forward with cries of exclamation, but didn’t move against Eric.

“Shut up and stop talking about Alan that way,” he said in a low tone.  “You don’t know him.  You haven’t spent months with him like I have.”  Eric’s breath came hard and fast, and he thought of Alan kneeling in his garden, hands in the dirt as he carefully tended the rows of flowers in their beds.  “You think gardening is foolish?” the tall reaper said quietly. “You haven’t seen anything.”

Shoving himself back from Drake, Eric spun and headed back into the club.  He didn’t want to be there anymore; he didn’t want to drink or dance and even when he saw Sam waving from across the room he only halfheartedly returned the motion.  He was so mixed up in his feelings.  He needed to be home with Alan.  He was nearly to the door when Shelia grabbed his hand.

“Hey, don’t let them bother you.”

“They don’t understand,” Eric said.  “Everyone thinks he’s so strange but no one gets that’s he’s just being him.  Being Alan.”

“I know,” the reaper said gently.  “But running off won’t do any good.  Let’s dance.”

Before Eric could protest, she had dragged him onto the dance floor and taken his hands.  He wanted to refuse, but she smiled up at him so hopefully, he sighed and moved to the beat with those around him.

“Nice dancing, Eric!” came Sam’s cheerful voice from beside him, and the tall reaper grinned at her.

“Not so bad yourself,” he replied and she laughed.

As the song ended, Eric had just begun to enjoy himself for the first time that night, but when the music paused, he felt the pleasure dissipate and he ran his hand over his head, wondering if he should stay or go.

“I think I’m going to leave,” he said to Shelia and she frowned.

“Well, okay… but-,” she paused suddenly and pointed toward the door. “But why go home when he’s just walked in?”

Eric nearly tripped over his feet spinning toward the door.  And sure enough, there was Alan, standing awkwardly on the foyer in the cutest purple vest Eric had ever seen.  He hadn’t seen them yet, and was looking shyly around the room.  Eric quickly made his way through the crowd until he near enough to Alan to call his name.

The smaller reaper looked up and smiled nervously as Eric came to a stop in front of him.  “I decided to come after all,” he said.

Eric grinned; he had never been so happy to see a face at a party.  “I’m glad you came!” he said, pulling Alan into a hug, which the reaper returned.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Alan,” Shelia said with a smile as Eric pulled away. “I’m Shelia.”

Alan held out his hand, but Shelia drew him into a hug. “Oh!” he said, “Yes, it’s nice to meet you too!”

“We were dancing,” Eric said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.  All at once he was inspired to go back out onto the dance floor.  “Sam’s here too!”

“So am I,” Thom said, coming in through the door. “I’m not here to dance though.”

“I’ll dance!” Sam said, bounding up to them and taking Alan’s hand.

The reaper looked embarrassed. “I don’t really know how!”

“It’s easy,” Sam promised. “I’ll show you.”

She dragged a stammering Alan off toward the floor and Shelia took Eric’s hand, pulling him along after the other two.  Thom made his way to a barstool to watch.

“Just move to the beat of the music!” Sam instructed as the song began.  “Don’t think about it!”

Eric and Shelia held hands and fell into motion beside Sam and Alan, the latter of who looked self-conscious and thrilled at the same time.  Eric chuckled at the wide-eyed look on Alan’s face and twirled Shelia in a circle as the music picked up.

A few songs later, during a fast beat, Sam called out, ‘Switch!’ loud enough to be heard all over, and suddenly the entire floor was shifting, each dancer breaking away from whatever partner they had and connecting with another.

Eric suddenly found himself holding Alan’s hands and Sam laughed.

“I think we did that wrong!” Alan said as the two women frolicked away into the crowd.  That’s a great word, ‘frolicked’!

“Who cares?” Eric chuckled.  “This works just fine!”

Alan laughed. “I’m awful at this, I’m sorry!”

Eric looked at the reaper, moving to the rhythm of the song, and shook his head. “You’re brilliant!”

Alan laughed again, blushing and Eric let go of one of his hands, spinning him in a circle.  Dizzy, Alan stumbled, falling into Eric’s arms just as the song ended and another began.

Looking down at the reaper, Eric felt his heartbeat quicken unexpectedly as Alan brushed his hair from his eyes.

“That was fun,” he said breathlessly.

“It’s a slow song now,” Eric said, his tone soft.  “Do you want to keep going?”

“If you do,” Alan said.  “I’m glad it’s slow; I need to catch my breath.”

 _‘I need to sort my feelings,’_ Eric thought.  He assumed it should feel awkward, but curving his arm around Alan’s back felt good, natural, like it was supposed to be there.  Having the smaller reaper so close was a wonderful sensation, and with a start, Eric realized it wasn’t the first time he had felt this way.

Every time Alan made him laugh or smile, he had felt this, though not in the amount he now was experiencing.  It was as if it all had been compiling to this moment, to show him the truth.

And what a truth.

 _‘Don’t think that way,’_ Eric scolded himself.   _‘How dare you think Alan could be yours.  Haven’t you proved it time and time again that there is no one right for you?  One night stands and weeklong flings are all you can offer.’_

“But can’t you feel him?” the voice in his head countered.  “Can’t you feel how perfect he is in your arms?  Doesn’t it seem like he wants to be there?”

Eric stepped back, his hands leaving Alan.  “You know,” he said, and was astonished to find he had to focus so his voice wouldn’t crack.  “I’m really thirsty.  We should get a drink.”

“That sounds great, actually,” Alan said, smiling at him, and Eric almost had to close his eyes.  How could he resist..?

“You two! Over here!”

Shelia’s voice wound its way through the crowd and Eric was thankful for her interruption.  “We’re looking for drinks!” he replied as they made their way toward her and Sam.  “What’s the bartender got tonight?”

The next hour passed too quickly for Eric, and at the same time it was the longest hour of his life.  Time froze when he happened to lock eyes with Alan, and every time he wanted to let this rush of affection overtake him, he held it back and concentrated on Shelia’s hand resting on his arm.

Later that night he got home to a dark house.  Alan was already in bed, having left the club hours earlier.  Eric danced to every song after that, holding Shelia in his arms as if she could erase the imprint of his friend.

He was afraid if he held Alan too long his rough hands, he would only shatter the reaper like glass.

When he turned the handle of his bedroom door, there was a creak down the hall and he turned to see Alan peek out from his room.

“Hey,” Eric whispered. “You’re still up?”

“I wanted to say thank you for convincing me to go tonight,” Alan said quietly.  “It was very different from anything I have ever done.”

“No problem,” Eric replied, and Alan nodded, giving him a sleepy smile before vanishing back into his room.

In the hall, Eric rested his head against the doorframe for a long moment before entering his own room and going to bed.


	33. Unrequited Love...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me way to long to post this... T_T I'm sorry. The next part will be faster, I promise.

The next morning when Eric woke, his first thought was of breakfast.  He wondered what Alan had made to eat, but the second the reaper crossed his mind, the night before came crashing down on his head.

“Oh, hell,” he moaned, burying his face into the pillow.  Then he sat up and threw it across the room, startling Potato, who was just coming in the door.  The cat skittered away down the hall and Eric rolled out of bed.

The smell from the kitchen was cream of wheat and Eric spooned too much in his bowl while staring at the back of Alan’s head as the other reaper read the paper.

“Do you love me?” he wanted to ask.  “Please don’t.  I don’t want to hurt you.”

Alan seemed perfectly normal and gave Eric half of the newspaper, which the tall reaper immediately held up to cover his face.  He hoped he wasn’t acting too oddly as they left the house and drove to work and finally parted at the lift.  Once inside, Eric sagged against the wall and covered his face with his hand.

“Stop thinking,” he moaned.  “Stop loving him!”

His heart screamed his affections and he went into his office and drowned it in whiskey.

I _IIIIII_ I

 _‘I wish he loved me,’_ Alan thought, distractedly writing out forms for Grell.   _‘But last night Shelia had her hand on his arm the whole time we talked and he didn’t seem to mind at all.’_

Discreetly wiping the tears from his eyes, he stacked the forms one by one, trying to busy himself with work.

“Stop thinking,” he scolded himself.  “Stop thinking of him.”

I _IIIIII_ I

Night had long since fallen over the reaper city, yet sleep would not come.  It danced over the bedsheet, tantalizingly close, yet never near enough to catch.  Like mist at dawn it hovered, impossible to latch onto.

With an annoyed growl, Eric tossed back the bedcovers and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.  Nothing was more annoying than not being able to fall asleep.  He wasn’t too hot, wasn’t too cold, and he knew exactly why he was awake.

“I need to do something about this,” he said outload, and headed for the kitchen.

The phone rang so many times Eric was sure she wouldn’t pick up.  He almost hoped she wouldn’t.  If she didn’t, maybe he would have the courage to go knock on Alan’s door.

But then the line clicked and her sleepy voice sounded through the receiver. “Hey, it’s Shelia. Who the hell is this and do you know what time it is?”

“It’s me,” Eric said, and her tone changed at once.

“Eric?  What’s up?  You do know what time it is, right?”

“I know,” the reaper said, rubbing his eyes. “I need to ask you something.”

“Sure,” came the reply, and Eric hesitated.

If he did this he was sacrificing anything he felt, any love in his heart that belonged to Alan only.  But this was for Alan, because if his friend did deserve anyone, it most certainly was not him.

“Eric?” Shelia asked as the silence grew.  “What do you want to ask me?”

Eric took a breath.  “I can’t sleep and was wondering if I could crash at your place tonight?”

“In my bed?” the reaper teased, and Eric wished he could find it funny.

“Just the couch,” he answered dully.

Shelia’s tone became concerned. “Hey, you okay over there?”

“No!” he wished he could shout, “No I’m not! Can’t you see I love a man I shouldn’t?  Nothing is okay!”

But all he said was, “Sure. I just can’t fall sleep in this flat for some reason.”

“Okay, come right over,” Shelia said. “I’ll be waiting.”

The call terminated and Eric leaned against the wall.  He’d done the right thing.  Shelia was kind, and gentle, and he could gather all that love he had building up inside and channel it to her instead.  After all, she was used to men like him; she would know how to handle him.  She wouldn’t break in his arms as he feared Alan would.

I _IIIIII_ I AUGUST 30th

_I left early today and made my own lunch._

_See you later,_

_~E_

Alan held the note in his hands, not knowing what to think.  Eric had left before he had even gotten up; that was a thing unheard of.

Was something wrong?  Was Eric okay?  Unfortunately, Alan had no idea what the reaper’s schedule for the day was and there was no telling when he would be in his office.

“We’ll still meet up for lunch, right?” he asked, as if the words on the paper would change to reassure him everything was alright.

But of course, nothing was right now.  Why did the first man he loved have to fall for someone else?  What did a person do to forget the feeling of love?  He needed to talk to someone, anyone, who could help him understand what to do.

Folding the note, he slid it into his pocket and went to get dressed.

Half an hour later Sendyn Eccles was organizing his class schedules for the day when a knock came at the door.  Used to students coming early for extra help with assignments, he called out, “come in!”

To his surprise it was Alan who entered the room.  The teacher smiled, ready to greet the reaper with a warm welcome, but the less than cheerful expression on Alan’s face stopped him.

“Is everything alright?” Eccles asked instead as Alan sank down in a chair.  “You look distressed.”

“I need some advice,” Alan said, his voice faltering.  “I have a problem.”

Eccles sat forward, glad Alan trusted him to what seemed to be something big, but he was confused as to why the reaper wouldn’t go to Eric.  Eric had any answers Eccles might be able to give and yet here Alan was, sitting before the teacher and not his flat mate.

“Anything I can do to help,” Eccles assured him, and Alan crossed his legs, nervously wrapping his hands around his knee.

“Well… You know Eric and I have been living together for quite a while now,” Alan said, “And we’ve become pretty good friends.”

“Very good, as far as I can see,” Eccles agreed.

“Yes,” Alan continued.  “And he thinks of me as a good friend, I know he does, but now I….” The reaper hesitated, looking down at his lap.  “I think that I like him quite a bit more than a friend.”

Out of anything Alan could have said Eccles had not been expecting that.  However, the news did not surprise him in the least and he said so.

“You two have a bond,” he said.  “And for you to feel this way isn’t strange.”

“I suppose not,” Alan said, “but that’s not my problem.”

Eccles had assumed as much.  He didn’t think Alan would have come simply to tell him he was in love with Eric.  He waited patiently while Alan gathered his courage to speak.

“Mr. Eccles,” Alan sighed finally, “He… I think Eric loves someone else.”

At that Eccles knew he wouldn’t have the words to help Alan.  After all, what could he say?

Alan wiped a tear off his cheek. “I realize now there’s nothing you can do to help me. It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault; it’s simply a choice.”

Eccles took off his glasses and rubbed them with his handkerchief.  “Hearts are funny things,” he said slowly.  “Sometimes they don’t make sense.”

“Thank you for listening to me,” Alan said, rising to his feet. “You’ve got a class soon; I’ll go”

Eccles stood also, wishing he had something to the reaper.  “Stop by any time, Alan.”

“Thank you,” came the quiet response before Alan was gone and Eccles sank back into his chair. What a pickle…  What a mess.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan didn’t lose his love over the next few weeks.  How could he when he was reminded of it every day?  He accepted Eric as he was though, and still they ate lunch together almost every day and Eric often went out at night but never too late.  They lived together comfortably and rather well, Alan thought.  He decided he was holding back his affections enough so Eric would never know.

Eccles didn’t speak of their talk, for which Alan was grateful, and when he saw Shelia, Alan treated her with the courtesy he would give to anyone.  He had no hard feelings against her; he could see she loved Eric, and from the amount of time Eric spent with her, he guessed he loved her back.

He and Eric would remain simply friends, and in the current situation, Alan knew he couldn’t ask for more.

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric felt like he was falling, as if the past few weeks had been one long drop of a cliff and he still couldn’t see the bottom.  How could he forget that his heart belonged to Alan when the reaper stole it every day?  He kept himself in check, though, and acted as a friend when they were together, as he always had.  When he went out he would shove Alan from his mind with a drink and Shelia’s kisses as his drug.

Shelia didn’t seem to notice the pain he was holding back.  He really did enjoy spending time with her; she was beautiful and kind to him, unlike most people in his life.  But her smile was nothing compared to Alan’s, and Eric wished he could feel the softness of Alan’s fingers, as if he was one of the flowers blooming in the garden that the reaper tended so gently.

He and Alan would remain as they were, friends, and Eric need never let the wall around his heart break.


	34. Chapter 34

“Are you doing good lately, Eric?” Thom asked as they walked through the Dispatch Building one day.

“How do you mean?” Eric replied, casting a glance at the other reaper.

Thom shrugged. “I don’t know.  You and Alan just seem a bit… off, lately.”

Eric glanced away into the crowd.  “Oh?  I don’t think we are.”

“I guess I don’t know what I’m saying,” Thom said, but he raised an eyebrow and Eric pretended not to see.

“Sorry, man, got to go,” he countered hurriedly.  “Got a party tonight.”

“Another one?” Thom asked. “How many nights do you actually spend at home?”

He shouted the last words after Eric as the tall reaper jogged away toward the exit and his car.  When he reached the vehicle, he folded his arms on the top and rested his head on them.

 _‘How many nights_ are _you home?’_ he wondered.   _‘Not as many as you used to be.  Remember when you and Alan would play cards and gamble with pretzels?  What happened to those nights?  He made the best cocktails for me…’_

Tilting his head to the side, he looked up until he found Alan’s level in the building.  The reaper had been promoted to third level reaper around a week ago and Eric had been so proud.  Even though he hated a reaper’s work, Alan never did a job halfway.  That’s just how he was.  The congratulation dinner Eric had secretly prepared had been one of the most pleasant things they had done in a long while.  Thom, Sam, Eccles, Grell and Will had all come over to eat and talk and play board games.  For that night Eric had forgotten he had to stop loving Alan and just enjoyed the occasion.

It had felt so good…

“Karaoke night!” Joy announced later that evening.

Shelia grabbed Eric’s arm. “Come on, Eric! You probably have a great voice!”

“No thanks!” the reaper said, staying planted in his chair. “I’m not singing tonight.”

Shelia shook her head. “Alright! But then you’ve got to stay and listen to me!”

“That I can do,” Eric said. “I don’t have anywhere else to be tonight anyway.”

Shelia giggled and ran up onto the stage.  Eric sat back in his chair and took a shot of rum.  Time to waste away another night.

I _IIIIII_ I September 22nd

When Eric unlocked the door at five ‘o’ seven in the morning, he was surprised to see the kitchen light was on.  Dropping his bag and slipping off his shoes, he walked down the hall and entered the room.

To his surprise, Alan was sitting at the island, head on his arms, sleeping in the kitchen light.  Moving to the reaper’s side, Eric touched him gently on the shoulder.

“Alan?”

Alan sat up with a jerk, looking around until his bleary eyes found Eric.  “Oh, you’re home!”  He adjusted his crooked glasses and stared at Eric more clearly.  “Where on earth were you?”

“Out,” Eric said, going to the other side of the island. “Were you waiting up for me?”

Alan fixed his glasses again and Eric saw the obvious anger in his motions.  “I woke up a few hours ago and you were still gone,” he said, his voice sharp.  “I couldn’t sleep for wondering where you were!  You should have let me know you were going to be out so very late!”

Eric frowned.  “I don’t need to tell you when I’m coming home!”  He was dismayed at the nasty tone he was using, but couldn’t stop.   “I’m not a kid, Alan!”

“It’s after five, Eric!  I was worried!”

The anger and hurt in Alan’s voice stopped Eric’s spite like a brick wall and he bowed his head, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I shouldn’t have worried you.”

Alan looked down, tucking his hands between his legs and hunching his shoulders.  “It’s okay… I know you’re not a child.”  His tone changed, as if he was forcing it to be light.  “Where were you anyway?”

“I went out,” Eric said.  “Joy, Grell…”

“Shelia?”

“Yeah, she was there,” Eric answered.

“Oh,” Alan said in a monotone way.  “Well, we’d better get to bed…”

“Sure…” Eric said, his head still bowed.  He heard Alan leave the room and his bedroom door click shut.  When he was sure the reaper was gone, he sank down to the floor against the island and wept.

I _IIIIII_ I

When Alan left that morning, Eric came to the conclusion he would avoid the reaper all day.  He needed to gather himself after last night.  He hadn’t cried in a long time, but realizing Alan cared enough to worry all night…

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, me, it’s Shelia.”

“You going out tonight?”

“No one’s free.”

“I am.  Let’s make this a just you and me thing.”

“I like the sound of that, love.  When?”

“Right after work.  We can spend all night together.”

I _IIIIII_ I

_Go to bed.  I won’t be home ‘til late._

_~E_

Alan crumpled the paper and went to bed.

Hours later he was wakened by something.  Unsure of he had heard anything or not, he sat up, listening.  Both cats on the bed lifted their heads lazily but didn’t rise.  Just when he was sure he is had been imagining things, a soft sound reached his ears.

 _‘Whispers,’_ Alan realized.   _‘Eric.  He’s not alone.’_

The whispering became louder and Alan recognized the sound of Eric’s bedroom door opening and closing.  He strained his ears but no more sounds came after that.  Pushing back his covers, Alan went to the door and stuck his head out but the hall was empty.  Stepping into the corridor he walked to Eric’s door and stopped.

Soft muffled noises came from beyond and Alan realized he was holding his breath.  Covering his mouth he ran for the end of the hall, only letting his choked sob free when he was pressed against the front door.  Grabbing his coat, he unlocked the door and let himself out, hurrying down the steps to the outside door and wrenching it open.

His garden, beginning to wilt in the chilly night, held no comfort and he left the yard.  He didn’t know where he was going, but his feet led him down the street to the park and the lonely bench by the pond.  Sinking down onto the wooden slats he buried his face in his hands, shivering in the cool air.  Behind his fingers he could see erica flowers, waving in the breeze.  Lovely lavender, all alone.

“How awful,” he moaned.  “Why am I always alone?”

He didn’t know how long he sat, only that he was finally roused by the sound of a car engine dying and doors opening.  Lifting his head, he didn’t dare hope it was Eric and sure enough, saw Will and Grell making their way across the grass toward him.

“What are you doing here?” Alan asked.

“Coming home from a business gathering,” Will answered. “But that’s hardly the question that needs answering.”

“Now tell us what _you_ are doing in the park after midnight!” Grell said, coming to a stop in front of Alan and putting a hand on her hip.

“And in your nightshirt with bare feet,” Will added, raising an eyebrow at Alan’s attire.

The smaller reaper drew his knees together self-consciously, but then put his hands to his face and began sobbing again.

“Oh my,” Grell said, plopping down beside Alan. “What going on? I’m always all ears for a good bit of drama.”

“Good grief, Sutcliff,” Will said, taking the empty space on the other side of Alan.  “Pull yourself together, Humphries, and tell us what happened.”

Alan glanced from one to the other, Grell eager, Will stern but surprisingly passionate.  And the entire thing came spilling out, more so than it had with Eccles.  Alan spared no details and when he was nearly finished, his voice became quieter and quieter until he was almost whispering.

“And so then they came home tonight,” he said, “and they went into Eric’s bedroom and I just couldn’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

Will was silent, but Grell erupted at once.

“They had _sex_?  After _all_ you and Eric have gone through, he chose some girl over you?”  She stood, flipping her hair. “I have a mind to go over there right now and-!”

“Oh no!” Alan begged, gripping her sleeve. “Please don’t!”

“She won’t,” Will said with a warning glance at the red-haired reaper, “but you, Alan, have to come to terms with this.  You can’t go the rest of your life moping about lost love.”

“I know,” the reaper said miserably. “But I can’t see how.”

“Love is never lost,” grumbled Grell, but Will ignored her.

“Let us take you home,” the management reaper offered, helping Alan to his feet.

“Please take me to Mr. Eccles’ house instead,” Alan said, “I’d be much obliged.”

“As you like,” Will said. “Come along, Grell; there will be no barging in on anyone tonight.”

“Whatever,” Grell said softly, “but there’s no stopping me in the future…”

I _IIIIII_ I September 23rd

The next morning Alan was nowhere to be found and a message was waiting on the machine.

“I’m at Mr. Eccles’ house for the night,” Alan’s soft voice said.  “Please don’t come over.  I can’t… …I’ll be eating lunch with Will.”

Eric pressed the delete button and rested his forehead against the wall.  Alan had left so late last night…spent the night at Eccles’ house.  Why?

“Was that Alan?” Shelia asked, coming into the kitchen and opening a cabinet.

“Uh, yeah…” Eric answered, pushing away from the wall and turning to look at her.  She was taking teacups from the shelves and Eric held out his hand. “Um… that’s Alan’s cup.”

“Oh, sorry,” she said, placing the blue cup back in its place.  “What did he say?”

“Not much,” Eric answered.  “We should get ready for work.”

I _IIIIII_ I

“Ug, I have to get ready for work…” Alan moaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  He hadn’t gotten a bit of rest last night and rolled over, burying his nose into the pillow.  Eccles’ couch was rather comfy, but the strange surroundings weren’t what had stopped sleep from taking him into its calm embrace.

Getting up, Alan went into the kitchen and found a note attached to the fridge with a smiley face magnet.

_Good morning, Alan,_

_I hope you slept well.  Eat anything you like out of the fridge; tea is in the cabinet to the upper right of the sink._

_I’m in my office from 7-9, 12-12:30 and 5-7 today if you want to see me at all._

_Please have a good day,_

_~Eccles_

Taking a pen from the mug on the counter, Alan scribbled a small thank you message on the bottom of the note.  Then he made himself a quick cup of tea before heading out.

He realized he was in his nightshirt, but the fact didn’t bother him very much on the walk home.  Nothing really bothered him.  It was as if he had pulled himself into a shell and sealed himself off from the outside world.

“Nothing can get me in here.  I’m all alone and safe.  There’s absolutely nobody with me so I can’t be hurt in any way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O.o


	35. Author Note- Reaper's Music

Hey, guys, sorry this isn't a new chapter but I have a question that needs answering.

What kind of music do the reapers listen to?

I think Eric would go for Pat Benatar 'Love is a Battlefield' and Blondie sort of stuff.

Will would probably have instrumental music playing quietly in the background.

Ronald's most likely going to have some Eminem or Drake blasting.

Alan and Grell, I have no idea.

So what do you think? What kinds of tunes do they listen to?

Thank you guys so much for sticking with me and my terrible update schedule. I appreciate it very much ❤


	36. The Beginning

When Eric saw Grell making her way toward him through the bar, he knew he was in trouble.  He stood before she reached him, ready for anything she had to say about the shabby paperwork he had left on her desk last night.

“Be ready for yelling,” he said in a low voice to Shelia, who giggled.

“Mr. Slingby,” Grell said, stabbing one pointy red fingernail into his chest.  “What sort of crap are you up to?”

“Come on,” Eric said wearily.  “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Grell’s eyes widened. “Not that big of a deal? Not that big of a deal! Well from what I saw last night it was plenty big!”

“It was a bit messy,” Eric said with a shrug and Grell’s jaw dropped.

“A bit messy? A _bit_? It was a LOT more than a _bit messy_!”

Eric raised a hand. “Calm down!  So it was a miserable wreck.  I’m not sorry.”

Grell looked like she was going to explode.  She grabbed Eric by his collar and shook him. “Eric Slingby, I don’t know how I EVER could have thought you were a man of integrity!  To take true love and cast it aside like it was NOTHING!”

Then Eric realized she probably wasn’t talking about the paperwork.

“Grell, Grell,” he said, grabbing her arm to stop her tirade against him.  “Wait a minute!”

“I am NOT vouching for you!  Not when you think you can go around banging whoever you want and don’t care about a man’s heart!  Goodbye!”

“Grell!”

Groaning at the mess he was in, Eric latched onto the red reaper’s arm and dragged her across the room toward the back door, leaving a staring crowd in their wake.  When they were in the alley, Eric faced Grell.

“Obviously this is not about paperwork.”

Grell tossed her hair. “Obviously!  This is about Alan!”

Eric knew it was.  He rubbed his face. “Grell.  I’m sure you understand.”

“I understand you made the man who loves you run crying out into the night to weep like a maiden who has just had her prince dragged from her arms!”

“No metaphors,” Eric warned.  “Wait… did you say Alan loves me?”

Grell dragged her hands down the sides of her head in despair. “Of course, you bloody fool! Will and I found him in his nightshirt in the park yesterday! He ran right out of the house when you and carrot head were playing games in bed!”

Eric leaned against a wall.  “Oh no… He loves me like I love him.”

“I find it hard to believe that’s a bad thing,” Grell said, hands on her hips.

“You don’t understand,” Eric said sourly.  “I can’t love Alan.  I’ll hurt him.  He’s so good, so pure.  I’m not.”

Before he knew what was happening, Grell had him pinned to the wall, her nose inches from his.

“And tell me, hon,” she whispered, “Why that’s a bad thing? We aren’t all sugar and spice in here.”

“He is,” Eric said.

“He’s so much sugar he’ll explode if he can’t share it,” Grell said, not pulling back.  She grinned, her teeth flashing. “Love, you’ve got to take that sugar.”

Eric shoved her away, then stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.  “I don’t deserve him.”

Grell scoffed. “Why not?”

Eric glared the ground. “Because of who I am!  I drink, I go out, I smoke, I’ve had way too many nights I can’t remember.”

Grell had been pacing behind him as he spoke and now she danced her fingers along his shoulders, her mouth next to his ear.

“And tell me… how many times have you overdosed on any of that since you met him?”

Eric opened his mouth, then closed it, and Grell nodded.  “Very few, huh? So now, why would you think that loving Alan would ever be bad? Seems to be he makes you exactly who you want to be for him.”

Eric was at a loss for words, and Grell spun him to face her.  Her nails dug into his shoulders until he winced in pain and she leaned close so her mouth was almost at his lips.

“If I was Shelia, would you want to kiss me?”

He would, wouldn’t?  He would want to kiss her…

“I…,” Eric whispered.

Grell’s lips brushed his.  “And if I was Alan?”

His heart was beating too fast, he couldn’t control it now.  Eric closed his eyes.  “Yes…”

Grell’s mouth curved into a smile.  “Hm.  My work here is done.”

She was halfway down the alley when Eric came to his senses and looked after her.

“Grell!”

She turned, eyebrow cocked.  Eric scratched the back of his neck.  “I’m can’t believe I’m saying this to you, but…thanks.”

The red reaper smirked. “Just let me say ‘I told you so’ to Alan and there’ll be no need to thank me.”  With a wave and no backwards glance, she sashayed her way to the corner and vanished from view.

Eric lifted his gaze to the sky, where stars were beginning to twinkle.  A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and he spun around, going back into the bar.

I _IIIIII_ I

When he reached Shelia, she smiled confusedly at him and his confidence slipped a bit.  No matter what, he did like her, and hated to hurt her.

“Hey, Shelia,” he said, sitting down on the stool he’d vacated before.

“Hey,” she said. “What was all that?”

“Not paperwork,” Eric replied.  He wasn’t sure how to break it to her, but he knew he would have to, one way or another.  So he took her hand in his and looked her in the eyes.

“Shelia… You know the person I am...  late nights… never settle down.  I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone I wanted to spend forever with.”

“Right,” she agreed, studying him closely.

“Well…. I don’t think that anymore.”

“Not because of me,” she said without any doubt.

Eric nodded. “I realize…. Grell helped me realize, that I want to stop being who I was and never go back.”

Shelia looked away. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you.”

Eric nodded, looking down at her hand held between his.  “Yeah.  I’m so sorry.”

“No,” she said suddenly. “Don’t be.”

Eric looked up, shocked.  “What?”

“If you were leaving me for some stupid reason like I snored too much or I gained weight, I would be mad.”  Shelia shook her head.  “But it’s nothing trivial like that.  You’re leaving me for Alan.”

“Yeah, for Alan,” admitted Eric.  “I wish-.”

Shelia pressed her finger to his lips, her eyes watery. “Hush…  You’ve found yourself at last.  We’re just not meant to be.”

Eric nodded, swallowing.  He was sure if he tried to speak his voice would break with grateful tears.

“Now go on, love,” she whispered, slipping her hand out of his.  “I bet you’ll be home in time for dinner.”

Eric looked at her, unable to speak.  He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek before grabbing his keys and hurrying out the door.  When he had gone, Shelia rested her head in her arms and cried.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan tied the apron strings around his waist and picked up the wooden spoon from the plate, careful not to drip any sauce on the counter. Uncovering the pot on the stove, the smell of baked beans filled the house, the rich sauce moving slowly as he stirred it. As he mixed, there came the sound of a key in the lock and a few seconds later the door opened.

Alan kept stirring, listening as Eric took off his shoes and dropped his bag, shrugging out of his coat as he entered the kitchen.

“Smells good,” the tall reaper said, standing in the doorway.  “Dinner?”

“Yes,” Alan answered softly. “And lunch tomorrow, most likely.”

“Hm.” He heard Eric pull out a stool and sit down at the island.  “I’m looking forward to it.  Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“I might sit on the balcony with the cats, or read, I suppose,” Alan answered, watching the small beans move around and around in the pot.

“Mind if I join you?”

“You aren’t going out with Shelia?” The surprised was obvious in his tone.

He heard Eric shift in his seat.  “We broke up.”

“Oh?” Alan’s heart fluttered.  “I’m sorry…”

“Eh, we agreed we weren’t meant for each other.”

“Oh really?” Alan tried to sound indifferent and focused on the beans.

“Yeah, she’s not my type,” Eric said.

Alan didn’t even realize he had stopped stirring, the beans sat still and simmering in the pot as Eric spoke.

“I suppose I’ve always known,” the tall reaper mused, and Alan could picture him, chin in hand. “A smaller fellow… brown hair, I’ve always liked brown hair… Course he’d have green eyes like the rest of us, but they’re darker, not so lime green.”

Alan felt faint, but he still didn’t move, didn't turn. “You’re very particular…” he breathed.

“I know a guy…” Eric said after a moment’s silence.  “We’ve known each other for a while… since he was at the reaper academy.”

Alan’s heart was jumping, but he kept his eyes on the food before him.  Eric voice became softer.

“He’s sweet… got the most adorable smile and loves to garden, got too many flowers to count… And he brings the best out of me.  I’m nothing when I’m not with him.”

Alan couldn’t take it anymore at this point and spun around to face Eric.  The tall reaper stood from his place at the island and in a few steps was standing in front of Alan. Before the reaper could say a word, one of Eric’s arms was around his middle, the other hand gripping his wrist, pulling him so their bodies collided.  Their lips met and the wooden spoon fell from Alan’s hand, clattering to the floor.  Neither of them noticed the mess.

Alan closed his eyes; he couldn’t breathe, and not just because Eric had taken over his mouth.  His nose was filled with the scent of cologne and smoke.  Eric’s hands were holding him gently, so gently, and yet Alan could feel every bit of power in the other reaper’s body, pounding through his muscles like a heartbeat.  The sensations he was experiencing had no limits and it was as if fireworks were exploding in his mind and his heart.

When Eric finally drew back, Alan gulped for air, and gripped Eric’s arms for support.  He lifted his gaze to Eric’s face and saw the same rush of passion in the tall reaper’s green eyes.

“Alan,” Eric gasped, but didn’t seem to be able to say another word.  Alan didn’t need him to.  All he wanted was to hear his name from Eric’s mouth and feel his closeness.

“I love you,” Alan breathed and Eric enfolded the smaller reaper in his arms, pulling him close.  Alan collapsed against Eric’s strong chest and closed his eyes.

Eric bowed his head over Alan’s, letting his own eyelids drift shut, inhaling the sweet, earthy scent of the reaper in his arms.

“I love you,” he whispered.

And in that moment he knew forever could come and go, time may stop and the earth crumble into dust, but nothing would ever mean as much to him as Alan did.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan wasn’t sure how, but somehow he had ended up sitting on the couch with a hot cup of tea in his hands, staring at Eric.  The tall reaper sat cross-legged on the other end of the couch, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on his own cup.

“So…” Alan began, but faltered.  What did one say after something as incredible as what had just happened?

“Well,” Eric said, breaking the silence, “I suppose you’d better get around to telling me off.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” Alan asked, astonished.

Eric shook his head. “Really?  After what I put you through?”

Alan shrugged. “I suppose I was rather confused for a while…” He looked up at Eric.  “Was your distance these past weeks because…?”

“Because I love you and didn’t have the guts to just tell you?  Yes.”  Eric sighed, putting his cup down on the table.  “You know what I told myself?  I said if I was staying away from you, continuing my relationship with Shelia, because I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But that’s not why?” Alan questioned softly.

Eric ran his hand through his hair and looked out the balcony doors.  “Yes, it’s true, but also, I was selfish, you know? I figured if I went too far with it, that eventually this would just end up hurting me too, like everything else in my sorry excuse for an existence.”  He turned to gaze at Alan again.  “Stupid of me.  How could you ever hurt me?  I couldn’t even see I was causing you pain.”

Alan set his cup on the table beside Eric’s and took his friend’s hand.  “It’s okay to be a little selfish I think… Love is too complicated to sort out all the wrinkles.  I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”  He looked down at his hands, wrapped around Eric’s strong one.  “You care a lot about things, and if I’m one of those things, then I…”  He hesitated as his words caught up to him, and he felt his cheeks redden.

“You’re too good for me,” Eric smiled, taking his other hand and folding it over Alan’s.

“Oh no,” Alan insisted.  “I’m not all that good….  And I…”

“Yeah?” Eric prompted, and Alan giggled, almost too shy to say what he was thinking.

“I just realized we’ve been holding hands for a minute now and… we can do that.  It’s okay.”  His blush was spreading; he could feel his whole face becoming hot and he couldn’t stop smiling.  “It’s nice.”

“Wow,” Eric chuckled. “You’ve never been in love, have you.”

Alan shook his head and Eric caught his chin, lifting his face so their lips met for the second time that evening.  It was no less perfect than the first, and Alan found himself wondering what every kiss after would feel like.  Would each moment become better, more and more suited to them, making it their own creation, as if no one else in the world had ever felt love?  Or would each touch become less and less special, like a daily routine?  Alan doubted that.  He couldn’t imagine ever tiring of Eric’s warm skin against his.

He didn’t know what to do when Eric pulled away.

“Dinner’s been done for a while,” he said, and mentally kicked himself a second later. Dinner.  He was talking about dinner!

But Eric didn’t seem at all fazed and stood, collecting the cups.  “Good point,” he said, heading for the kitchen.  “I’m starving.”

Alan followed suit, dishing out the beans and fried potatoes he had made earlier.  The cats ran in as Eric rattled their food bowls and Potato meowed for her favorite meal, which Eric kindly presented to her.  As they sat at the kitchen table, the cats eating contentedly, it was almost as if the past few weeks had never been.  But while they talked and laughed, Alan could feel the difference in the air, the beginning of something new, and he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;) Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone ♥


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T_T Chapter names... help

“Alan?”

Alan looked over from where he was hanging up his sweater to see Eric standing in the doorway.  “Yes?”

The tall reaper walked into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “There’s just one more thing I’ve got to tell you before we really get this started.”

“Oh?” Alan closed the closet door and turned, trying to keep himself calm.

Eric clasped and unclasped his hands. “So, that night-last night-when Shelia and I came home…”

Alan wasn’t sure where this was going and squeezed the door handle behind his back for support.  He felt he should stop Eric before the tall reaper went into something too much to bear.  “Eric.  It’s okay.  You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, no,” Eric pressed. “I have to tell you.  Because, you see, we didn’t have sex.”

That was not what Alan had been expecting.  He was certain that-.  “You…?” he asked, confused.  “I thought…I don’t know what I thought, but-.”

Eric waved his hands, shaking his head. “She wanted to,” he said, cutting Alan off. “I just couldn’t.  I guess I was thinking of you and I knew if I ever wanted to be with you, I couldn’t go that far.  Not this time.”

Alan tried not to let the tears in his eyes well over.  His chest felt light, as if something heavy had been lifted from it and he released the doorknob, rubbing his sore fingers together.  It was like the last spider web had been pulled away and everything was fresh and clean.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, and Eric stood, shrugging.

“I couldn’t just leave it hanging could I?”  He stretched. “I’m exhausted now.”

“And it’s a work day tomorrow,” Alan sighed.

Eric grinned. “Hey, at least we got ourselves sorted, right?”

“Thank god for that,” Alan said, returning the warm smile.  Eric moved to his side and pecked him on the cheek before going to the door.

“Night,” the tall reaper said, “love you.”

 _‘We can say that now,’_ Alan thought, and put his hands over his heart as it fluttered. “Goodnight,” he replied,

“I love you.”

I _IIIIII_ I September 24th

Eccles walked to work with his mind focusing not even a little on where he was doing.  He had been like that for a few weeks now, ever since Alan had told him his feelings for Eric, and he had only become more distracted since last night, when Alan had shown up on his doorstep, delivered by Will and Grell.

The reaper had seemed tremendously ashamed and could barely get out the words to ask Eccles if he could spend the night.  Obviously, the teacher had agreed straight away, knowing something big must have happened for Alan to leave his bed in the middle of the night and make such a request.

After he had ushered the reaper to the bathroom to get cleaned up, Will had briefly told him a bit of the situation and the teacher figured out the rest himself.  Eccles had felt a deep regret as the management reaper spoke the words.  

 _‘How odd,’_ the teacher had thought, gathering up blankets and a pillow for Alan.   _‘How angry I was at first, how I split them apart when Eric was still Alan’s mentor!’_

He had offered Alan tea, but the younger reaper had politely refused and apologized for waking him.  He simply asked to make a phone call.

After showing him the phone, Eccles had said goodnight, seeing how much Alan wished to be alone, and gone back to his own room, his heart heavy.

 _‘I didn’t want them together,’_ he mused, staring up at his bedroom ceiling, _‘and how awful I now feel that they are apart in such a way.’_

Alan hadn’t called on him the next morning in his office, and he had considered stopping by the reaper’s shared flat.  But his uncertainty of the situation had stopped him, and he had gone home, later regretting not knocking on the door to make sure Alan really was alright.

This morning work forced him to rise too early and hurry in to quickly to pay a visit.

 _‘I’ll go see him at lunch,’_ Eccles vowed, nearly getting run over by a yellow bug car as he distractedly stepped off the curb.

Passing by the Dispatch Building, Eccles wasn’t sure what caused him to glance up.  His eyes hadn’t left the ground in front of him the entire walk from his flat, and yet now he lifted his head, and looked across the street.

The area in front of the doors was busy as ever, reapers coming and going, working hard and relentlessly in a steady stream of black suits.  But in front of the center set of doors, reapers streaming by as if they were surrounded by their own little bubble, were two familiar faces.

Eccles watched, surprise, joy, and especially relief flickering through him like a cinematic record as he observed the scene.

Alan stood up on his toes so Eric could kiss him briefly before walking away with a wave toward his car.  Alan smiled and waved after, a glow of happiness enveloping him so bright Eccles was surprised everyone didn’t stop to stare.  It was if, in that short moment when their lips met, Eccles could see the cracks of hurt and sorrow sealing up and vanishing.

“Well… It happened,” the teacher said softly.

“Something wrong, teach?” came a saucy voice at his shoulder and Eccles turned to see Grell had moseyed up behind him.  “Not happy to see a student fraternizing with his teacher?” the red reaper asked.  “Is that out of conduct in your book?”

“On the contrary,” Eccles replied, adjusting his glasses. “I am quite happy to see the two of them together.  It is where they belong, after all.  It makes me glad.”

“Oh…?”  Grell raised an eyebrow at him, then shifted her gaze to Alan, who was vanishing inside the building as Eric pulled away from the curb. “Hm… It makes me glad too.”  She crossed her arms. “Though I _am_ still going to have a little chat with Eric about his behavior with that carrot top.”

Eccles turned to her. “Now _that_ I believe would be out of conduct.  It is their business after all.”

Grell laughed. “I make everyone’s business my business, hon!”  She stepped off the walk and headed toward the building. “Toodles!”

Eccles sighed and shook his head.  Some reapers he would never understand.  But that didn’t matter; because for the first time in a while, he could stop worrying about his friends.  Continuing his walk toward the school, his step had a spring and on his face, a smile.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan filled out report forms absentmindedly that morning.  Even seeing the faces of the people whose souls he would have to collect that week didn’t impact him with the same sorrow they had before.  He felt light and happy, and it was drowning everything else out.

It didn’t escape the notice of the reapers around him that something had changed.  Some frowned, trying to figure it out, and then raise their eyebrows when a blush would suddenly blossom over the smaller reaper’s cheeks and he would smile to himself.

Sam, who had advanced to a third level reaper the other day, came over to Alan around ten ‘o’ clock and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of his desk.

“You seem really happy,” she started cautiously.  It had been obvious to her all this time what was going on with her two friends, but she and Thom had both kept quiet.  “Win a million dollars or something?”

Alan signed his name on the bottom of the document and set it on its designated pile.  “Much better,” he said, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her.

Sam grinned. “What could be better than a million dollars?”

Before Alan could answer, Grell’s loud voice reached their ears.

“Danys!” they heard her say before she even reached them, “You’re supposed to be _working_!”

“Says her,” Sam mumbled and Alan tried not to smile.  Grell rounded Alan’s cubicle and put her hand on her hip.

“This is _not_ where you are supposed to be!”

“I finished all my morning paperwork,” Sam said, crossing her arms.  “And I don’t have a retrieval until eleven.  I can be wherever I want to be.”

Grell rolled her eyes. “But how am I supposed to find you, hon?  I need you to organize these files!” The red reaper dumped the large stack of folders she was carrying into Sam’s arm, sending the younger reaper stumbling under the weight.  “And Will needs them done before ten forty-five so make it snappy!  Go, go!”

She waved her red nailed hands at Sam, who made a rude noise in the back of her throat and staggered off back to her desk.

“Talk to me later, Alan!” she called back over her shoulder.  “I want to hear the whole thing!”

“”I’ll talk to you soon!” Alan promised. “We should go out tomorrow!”

“Sounds good!” Sam yelled back as she rounded the corner, making the others reapers in the vicinity shush her irritably.  Grell took the spot on Alan’s desk Sam had just vacated and tapped her cheek.

“Love, you and Eric are the _hottest_ gossip right now!  I want to hear the whole thing!”

“We’re gossip?” Alan said, looking appalled. “Oh dear.”

Grell smiled, her sharp teeth glinting. “You’re right up there with the fact that Tabatha Bellows wears skimpy lingerie to work!”

Alan wasn’t sure how he felt about being ‘up there’ with Tabatha Bellows’ lingerie, but he knew Grell wasn’t going to be easy to avoid at this point.  Setting down his pen, he entwined his fingers together and looked at Grell.

“What exactly are you looking for?” he asked. “I have quite a bit of work to get back to.”

“Work is nowhere near as important as this,” Grell replied, settling herself more comfortably on the desk.  “So after I snapped Eric out of his little bubble of stupidity, what’d he do?”

“You what?” Alan asked, surprised.

Grell shook her head. “I went down to whatever tavern he was in and popped that’s idiot’s delusions like a soap bubble.  It was straining thin anyway.  Just needed a little poke for him to go running back to you!”

Alan could hardly imagine what a ‘little poke’ was to Grell, but he dismissed the thought and stared seriously at the red reaper.  “Thank you, then,” he said.  “We were both foolish to hide our true feelings.  Who knows when we would have talked about it, if ever.”

Grell waved her hand, looking extremely pleased with herself. “Hon, it’s my job to know the workings of love.  I handled it perfectly.”  She leaned closer, grinning. “But come on now! Tell me what happened!  When he got home!”

Alan sighed. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.  He came home, told me he and Shelia had broken up and…”

“And…?” Grell prompted.

Now that he was speaking of the moment, Alan started to blush again.  What Eric had said… how he had described him, gently letting him know who he loved…

“He told me he loved me,” Alan said.  “Then we kissed. And that’s it.”

“Hmph!” Grell said, “Well that’s boring.”

Alan shook his head. “I’m not really sure what you wanted me to say.”

“Oh, so innocent in the ways of love!” the redhead gushed.  She patted Alan on the head and got to her feet.  “Keep me updated on the progress, sweetie! I’m all ears!  Toodles!”

Alan sighed, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Grell sashay away through the cubicles.  He wasn’t sure he would ever understand the way her brain worked.

 _‘I’m not sure I understand how_ my _brains work sometimes,’_ he though, turning back to the papers on his desk, _‘How would I ever understand Grell Sutcliff’s?’_

As he delved back into the drudgery of a reaper’s desk work, the dullness was soon abated by the ever wonderful thought of Eric, cutting through the dreary routine of the day.


	38. What I've Been Looking For

When Alan arrived home that evening, Eric still hadn’t returned from his retrievals and the house was dim and chilly.  Hanging up his coat and bag, Alan turned up the heat and headed for the bedroom, the cats meowing at him.  Potato bounded between his legs while Blossom trotted afterward, both asking for food.

“I’ll feed you soon,” Alan promised as he undressed.  “Be patient.”

When Eric arrived home, dropping his stuff in the hall and loudly announcing his dislike for retrieval jobs, the cats were scarfing down their food and Alan was preparing dinner.

“Why do I have to do so much retrieval stuff,” Eric moaned as he slumped onto a stool and flopped the upper half of his body across the kitchen island.  “Uhhhhg.”

“You’re a level one reaper, that’s why,” Alan replied.

Erin groaned into the tabletop and Alan reached over, patting him gently on the head.  “I’m making spaghetti.”

“Thank goodness,” the tall reaper said, his voice muffled.  “A bright spot in this day.”

“You have to cut some bread and grate the parmesan,” Alan added, dashing Eric’s dreams of sleeping until dinnertime.  Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, the reaper sighed, then dragged himself off the stool and over to the fridge, opening it.

“Where’s the parmesan?”

“In the cheese drawer,” Alan said, shaking his head and handing over the grater. “Where it belongs.”

Eric took the tool and began shredding the cheese into a bowl Alan placed before him.  “So, how was your day?” he asked.

“Desk work all day,” Alan replied, stirring the spaghetti sauce as it simmered.  Potato meowed at his feet and the reaper shook his head. “You already ate.”  Tasting the sauce, he sprinkled a little more oregano into the mixture.  “I talked with Grell.”

“What did the deranged woman have to say today?” Eric asked.

“She told me we’re gossip,” Alan said, feeling mildly embarrassed as he said it.  “Apparently we’re in the same league as somebody’s lingerie.”

“Oh, fun,” Eric said, grimacing as he tried to shred the last bit of the block of cheese.  “I’ve always wanted to be as popular as lingerie.”

“I know, right?” Alan replied.  “It’s an honor.”

After he said it, he glanced over at Eric and found the tall reaper looking at him.  Immediately they both burst into laughter.

“Seriously, why the hell are we and lingerie in the same sentence,” Eric snorted, giving up with the cheese and popping the rest of the block into his mouth.

Alan shook his head, still giggling. “It’s Grell, Eric.”

“That’s why,” the tall reaper replied, getting out the bread.  “Nothing is ever normal with her.”

Alan dropped the noodles he had made earlier into a pot of hot water, debating his next sentence.  “Grell told me,” he finally said, “that she, um, she talked to you the other night.”

“Oh yeah,” Eric said, “She slapped me around good.  I deserve a beating, you know.”

Alan looked back at Eric and found the reaper viciously cutting into the loaf of bread with a force that wasn’t required for the task.  Knowing this unnecessary anger was directed at Eric himself and no one else, Alan quickly dropped the last noodle into the pot and wiped his hands on his trousers.

Hesitantly he stepped closer to Eric, and then slipped his arms around the reaper’s waist, hugging him from behind.  He felt Eric tense, surprised, then relax.  The tall reaper took Alan’s hands and squeezed them.

“Wow, your fingers are freezing.”

“They’re usually cold,” Alan replied, “I don’t really think about it.” He rested his head against Eric’s back and the motion felt so right, it was as if he was being pulled into it.  The tall reaper smelled like cologne and fresh smoke, and Alan imagined he had had a cigarette or two while out retrieving souls.  Alan didn’t enjoy the scent of the smoke, but it was Eric’s smell, so he couldn’t ever dislike it.

A little flutter of delight went through Eric when Alan hugged him.  The gesture was an unexpected one and the reaper knew Alan’s self-consciousness would kick in sooner than later, so he treasured the moment as long as he could.

 _‘This is what I’ve been looking for,’_ he thought, bowing his head so he could blow his warm breath onto Alan’s chilly fingers.   _‘This type of life.  This has got to be what happiness is.’_

Eventually, as Eric knew he would, Alan drew back, and the reaper tried not to be awkward as he watched his friend shyly straighten his shirt and brush his hair from his eyes.  He smiled at Eric, who grinned back and was about to say something about maybe sharing another kiss, when the phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” Alan said.  “Stir the sauce, please?”

Eric went to the stove as Alan picked up the phone and hit the talk button.  “Hello?”

Eric recognized Sam’s cheery tone at once, though her words were just a jumble of excited sounding noise. Alan was smiling as their friend rambled, and when Sam finally stopped for breath, he spoke.

“It sounds great, Sam.  We’d love to go.  Where is it at?”

Sam replied and Alan nodded. “I’ve heard of it.”

Eric was getting more curious now and motioned to Alan, who glanced over.  “What is it?” the tall reaper mouthed, but Alan waved at him to be quiet.

“We can pick you and Thom up,” he said, then looked to Eric questioningly.  The tall reaper shrugged and nodded.

“Sure,” he said, eager to know what the conversation was about.

“Okay,” Alan replied to something Sam said, “see you later!”

“What’s up?” Eric asked as Alan replaced the receiver.  “Where are we going?”

“Sam and Thom are going to an opera next week and want to know if we would like to go with them.”  Taking the spoon from Eric’s hand, Alan tasted the sauce and nodded in satisfaction.

“An opera?”

Alan glanced up at Eric, who had raised an eyebrow, and sighed.  “Oh, it won’t be bad, Eric.  Have you ever been to one?”

“No,” the tall reaper admitted, getting two bowls from the cabinet, “But I heard they’re long and boring.”

“And I heard you never smile and like to saw off peoples’ limbs,” Alan pointed out, scooping noodles and sauce into the bowls his friend held out.  “You have to taste something before saying it’s not the flavor for you.”

“So that’s what they’re saying about me these days,” Eric chuckled as they sat down at the table.  Alan smiled and unfolded his napkin, placing it on his lap.

“I believe it is, yes.”

Eric grinned at Alan. “Glad you tried me out before deciding I was too scary to mess with.”

“So am I,” Alan agreed, returning the grin.

“And do you like what you tasted?” Eric asked, and Alan blushed.

“Oh, yes,” he answered.  Eric rose partway out of his chair, leaning across the table, and Alan did the same so their lips met over the steaming bowls of spaghetti.

“Don’t even need one of the long magic noodles that get lovers to kiss,” Eric joked when they drew back, and Alan laughed.

“No, I suppose we don’t!”

“Salud,” Eric said, lifting his glass and drinking, and Alan smiled in return before digging into his meal.

I _IIIIII_ I

“I’ve got a guy who was tortured for days….”

“My next soul was raped and then mauled to death!”

In the hall, Eric paused, listening to the reapers as they conversed in low tones.  Casually opening his scheduling folder so his eavesdropping would be less obvious, he glanced over at them.  With ruffled hair and ill-fitting suits, it was obvious both of them were new level four reapers.  And they were already working on such gruesome retrievals?  He knew the crime rate in the city and surrounding areas had increased in the past few days, but he hadn’t known it was enough to send kids like these out into it.  They were only level fours, after all.

Eric’s heart went out to them.

Deciding he wouldn’t just let this pass, the tall reaper headed down the hall to the lift, pressing the up button to carry him all the way to the top floor.  Going to the end of the corridor, he rapped sharply on Will’s door.

“You in there, Spears?”

“What do you want, Slingby?”

Eric opened the door and Will glanced up, looking irritated.  “Aren’t you supposed to be leaving for retrievals in the city?  There is a lot to be done.”

“I know,” Eric said, “And that’s why I’m here.”

“Get to the point, please,” Will said, “I have too much work to finish.”

“I noticed some new level four reapers had retrievals in heavy casualty sections of the city,” Eric said.  “Some pretty brutal stuff.”

“We have to pull a few younger reapers into the business,” Will explained. “The crime wave is worse than it originally seemed.”

Eric shook his head.  He knew Will valued efficient work above a lot of things, but he didn’t think he was heartless.  “It just seems like sending a new kid out to collect a rape victim’s soul…”

Will drew his eyebrows slightly together and looked up at Eric.  “We do not enjoy this job, Eric.”

Eric ran a hand through his hair. “Ah… I know.”  He opened his folder. “Look.  I’ve got some pretty easy jobs here, some natural deaths.  Switch out the level fours’ jobs with these.”

Will glanced at the calendar. “You’ll hardly fit them all in your schedule.”

“Better than making those kids do it,” Eric said firmly, and Will sighed.  He knew he wouldn’t change the tall reaper’s mind, not when Eric had already taken it upon himself to spare those other reapers.  The management reaper took a slip of paper from a folder and signed the bottom before holding it out to Eric.

“Here.  This is a list of all the level four reapers and their upcoming retrievals.  Switch the ones you can.”  Will adjusted his glasses. “And don’t make any trouble.”

“Deal,” Eric said, tucking the paper into his folder. “Thanks, Will.”

Will didn’t respond, going back to his work, and Eric left the office to seek out the level four reapers.

Thirteen hours later, he crouched on the edge of a roof, going through the last cinematic record of the day.  A young man, death by a bullet to the brain, sent there by the man himself using the gun that had killed a civilian moments before.  Soon there’d be a fresh reaper for the welcoming committee to greet, but right now Eric was staring at the man’s soul.

His past revealed things Eric recognized all too well.  An uncaring parent, bruising blows dealt for unknown reasons, running far away from home to escape into whatever freedom could offer.  There hadn’t been much for this man.  Alcohol, drugs… the things Eric knew like the back of his hand.

With a shudder, the tall reaper dismissed the life.  He didn’t need to see the ending.

This was the final retrieval of the night, and Eric felt like he was going to pass out.  He hadn’t eaten since breakfast, working nonstop collecting all day without rest.  He needed a cold beer, or two, and sleep.  Straightening, he staggered a bit as his blood pressure dropped, and decided some water might not be a bad idea either.

Walking across the moonlit rooftop, he was glad to be heading home, but even more satisfied that he could spare the younger reapers from witnessing all the carnage he had seen today.

_‘They don’t need to see that.  I’m okay with it.  I can take it.  Why make them suffer?’_

When he arrived home, Alan was already asleep and he sat at the table with a beer.  He made a sandwich but his stomach had tightened so he couldn’t eat and he fed it in little pieces to the cats.  The two felines provided adequate company, soft and purring, until he finally went to bed.


	39. Opera

“All of my suits are missing,” Eric said the next evening, peering around the door into Alan’s room. The other reaper turned from where he was buttoning up his vest.

“You have four suits,” Alan said, “They can’t all be missing.”

“They’re not in my closet,” Eric said, vanishing from the doorway.  Alan smiled and shook his head.

“Did you check the basket of clean laundry I did when we got home from work?”

There was a short pause, and then Eric’s sheepish voice came from down the hall.  “Found them.”

Doing up his tie, Alan slipped into his coat and checked himself in the mirror.  He had never been to an opera before, but had seen plenty of people converging at the entrance to the theatres and so knew that dressing up was required.  Sam had called this morning and said this was a smaller travelling company putting on the show so it wasn’t ridiculously expensive, but looking nice was still mandatory.

Leaving the room, Alan made sure the cats had food and water, turned out all the lights in the house, and went into the hall to get his shoes on.  When Eric joined him a few minutes later, he was loosening his tie around his neck.

“Oh,” Alan said, getting to his feet. “I think you should do it up tight this time.”

“Is it that fancy?” Eric asked as Alan did his tie up properly, buttoned all the buttons on his collar and closed his coat.  “I feel like Will.”

Alan stepped back and studied the tall reaper with a critical eye.   Eric always managed to slip in a bit of charismatic, roguish energy into his outfit, no matter what he was wearing, but with the freshly ironed suit and combed hair, Alan thought he looked decidedly dashing.

“Like a gentleman,” the reaper said, nodding in satisfaction.

Eric smirked. “Not a word generally used to describe me.”  He tossed the car keys in his hand and reached for the door handle. “Ready to go?”

Alan nodded and they headed out to the car.  A short time later Eric was beeping the horn outside the Danys’ house.  Thom, with what appeared to be a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, looked out of the window and flashed them a thumbs up before vanishing.  Eric leaned back in his chair and Alan double-checked he had money as they waited for the siblings to come out to the car.

When they did leave the house, Alan gasped and touched Eric’s arm. “Oh, Sam looks great!”

Eric looked out the window and had to agree.  Far from her usual casual appearance, Sam was wearing leggings, a black knee length tunic studded with silver thread, and a maroon shawl.  Thom was dressed up a suit and had a colorful, but nice, green and blue tie.  As they came down the steps, Eric got out of the car and opened the back door, bowing to Sam.

“Ma’am?”

“Oh, come on!” she laughed as Thom went around to the other side, grinning.  “I’m not a lady!”

“Tonight you are,” Eric said, ushering her into the backseat.  “And I’m a gentleman.  You wearing heels?”

“Heck no,” the reaper said, sticking out her foot, encased in a red high-top.  “These are the only shoes I own.”

“That’s my girl,” Eric said with a wink, shutting her door and sliding into the driver’s seat.  The four chatted during the drive and the walk into London, only pausing in their animated conversation once when Eric, who was in the front of the group, announced he had absolutely no idea where he was leading them.  Sam led the way after that.

“I’ve been to this theatre before,” she explained.  “I used to sneak in all the time.”

“Yeah, when I was supposed to be watching you,” Thom said, punching his sister in the shoulder. “At first I thought I’d lost you, but after a couple of times I figured out where you’d always run off to.”

Sam grinned.  “You couldn’t stop me though.”

“I didn’t try all that hard,” Thom said with a smile.

When they finally did reach the theatre, it was clear dressing up had been the correct choice.  The people streaming into the large main doors were clad in what the reaper’s assumed were the most fashionable clothes.  The women in particular were outfitted in fine garments, accessorized by beads and bracelets, and then men’s suits were immaculate, stiff and black.

“Thom and I will go get the tickets,” Sam said as they approached the doors, and Alan quickly handed over money for him and Eric’s passes.  The siblings vanished into the crowd and Alan gasped as they entered the theatre.

The ceiling soared over their heads, gilded in gold and decorated with designs and paintings of all kinds.  Long velvet drapes hung down and the carpet under their feet was crimson.  Crystal chandeliers lit the space with dazzling light.  Two long banisters wound upwards, leading to balconies that held the doors to take theatergoers to the upper level seats.  Around them, spectators chatted and mingled, waiting for the moment when they could take their seats for the show.

Looking around to make sure he hadn’t lost Alan in the crowd, Eric saw the other reaper was gazing about in amazement.

“Everyone looks so nice,” Alan remarked, watching the people in awe.

Eric unconsciously reached up toward his neck.  He had undone the top button on his shirt and loosened his tie during the drive.  Now he quickly did them up again, hoping Alan hadn’t noticed the sloppiness, and would now see he too looked just as fine as any of the men in the hall.

He wondered if Alan had ever been to anything as fancy as this in his lifetime.  By the way the reaper was watching everything curiously, he guessed not.

 _‘Not that I did anything like this,’_ Eric added to himself.   _‘My family didn’t exactly have a place in the high society…’_

To many times he had dreamed of living in one of the grand houses in the city.  He could have all the food he wanted and take as many blankets as he needed for the cold winter nights.  His shoes would be comfortable, not the old battered leather he owned, when he owned any at all.

But when he had gotten old enough and to the point when perhaps he could have made something of himself, he had already given up.  Alcohol stained nights, and days that weren’t much better, were all he knew.  A man or a woman for a night or two and then they were gone.  His mind had rotted and his heart shriveled.

 _‘I turned into my parents,’_ he thought grimly.

“Eric!”

The reaper started out of his thoughts, glancing around until he saw Sam waving from where she stood with Thom and Alan.

“The show’s about to start!” Sam said excitedly, “Let’s go sit down!”

The four reapers joined the throng of people entering the theater and would have had a rough time finding their seats had Eric not shouldered mercilessly through the crowd, clearing a path for the other three.

“I’m going to fall asleep in this seat,” the tall reaper said, sinking down into the soft velvet chair.  “Why are they so comfy?”

“It’s a three hour production,” Alan said, settling beside the reaper.  Sam took the place beside him and Thom sat in the last seat, on the aisle.  “Hard chairs would be uncomfortable after a while.”

“Three hours?” Eric shook his head.  “I’m definitely falling asleep…”

“Try to stay awake,” Alan said as the lights dimmed.  “It supposed to be an exciting story.”

The first singer floated onstage at that moment, pausing in momentary silence before lifting her chin and letting out a long high note.  As she went into the first line of the performance, Eric knew he would have no idea whether the storyline was exciting or not.

 _‘How on earth can anyone understand what they’re saying?’_ he marveled, and was mildly impressed that someone could follow what was happening onstage.  The woman was soon joined by a man, then another woman, and someone wearing tights and weird bird mask.

“What’s with the mask?” he whispered to Alan.

“It’s a spirit from the Underworld,” the other reaper answered quietly.  Eric nodded and sat back in his chair again.  A few minutes later the masked vocalist and the first woman started singing back and forth and tossing sticks around the stage.  Eric leaned in to Alan again.

“What are the sticks for?”

“They’re bones of people she’s sacrificing to save her kingdom,” Alan answered.

“Why’s she doing that?”

“Sh!” someone hissed from behind him and Eric glanced back, shooting a glare at the person who had shushed him.  The man looked defiantly back and Eric sniffed, turning back to the stage.

“It’s the only way to stop the spirits from destroying the land,” Alan continued in a low tone.  “That’s all we know so far.”

A few short minutes later Eric considered asking why there were people with creepy bunny masks hopping all over the stage, but he didn’t want to bother Alan again and decided he wouldn’t understand the reference even if the reaper explained it.  After a little while the songs started to run together and the lights seemed to be getting a lot dimmer in the theatre.  Also, the chair was really soft...

When intermission came and the lights brightened, Alan stretched his arms and smiled at Sam.  “I like it very much so far,” he said. “I’m glad you invited us along.”

“The lead singer is so good!”  Sam gushed, clutching her program so hard it crumpled in her hands.  “Her voice is so soothing!”

“Someone thought so,” Thom laughed suddenly. “Look at Eric!”

Sam and Alan glanced over at Eric, and Alan shook his head with a sigh.  The tall reaper was sunk low in his seat, legs spread, arms crossed over his chest, mouth open, and snoring quietly.  Shaking his head, Alan poked his friend.

“Hm?” Eric snorted, sitting up. “What’d I miss?”

“You’re snoring,” Alan answered, trying to frown disapprovingly.  Eric ran a hand through his hair and looked around.

“Is it over?”

“It’s just intermission,” Alan said. “You’re not so lucky yet.”

Eric grinned guiltily. “Sorry.  Guess I’m tired from work.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alan said gently, knowing Eric had had some hard days at work recently.  He worried the tall reaper wasn’t taking care of himself the way he should.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom and then get something to drink,” Sam said, standing.  “Anyone coming with?”

“Me,” Thom said, getting to his feet.  “I need some water.”

“I’ll come with you too,” said Alan.  As they stood, Eric pulled a bunch of crumpled banknotes from his pocket and held them out.

“Use this to buy whatever,” he said, stilling yawning sleepily.  “Should be enough.”

“You don’t have to,” Thom began, but Eric shook his head.

“Just get me something to eat, alright?”

Thom grinned and took the money. “Alright. Thanks.”

On that note, the three reapers vanished into the milling crowd and Eric shifted in his chair, getting more comfortable.  Taking off his coat, he bunched it into a ball and tucked it under his head.  The man behind him was whispering to his partner, but Eric didn’t really care much if the fellow though he was undignified, he just wanted to take one more quick nap before the show started again.  Leaning back, he yawned again and closed his eyes with a sigh, promising himself he would stay awake for the second half of the show.

He didn’t wake up when his companions returned, or when the lights dimmed and the singers came back onstage, or even when the crowd began clapping at curtain call.  He only opened his eyes when Alan shook him gently to inform him the show was over and it was time to go home.

Later, after they had dropped Thom and Sam off and Eric parked in front of their flat, the tall reaper looked over at Alan, who was unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Sorry I feel asleep,” he said apologetically.  “What a waste of a ticket.”

“It’s alright,” Alan said with a smile, “You were tired.”

Alan wasn’t cross with him at all, Eric could tell, and he was relieved.  The past days had taken a toll on him, and he was disappointed at the weakness.  Though, admittedly, it had been a while since he had worked so hard for this many consecutive days.

 _‘Got to get back into shape,’_ He thought as the two reapers entered the house and headed up to their flat.   _‘And how can I make this night up to Alan?’_

“It’s only nine thirty,” Alan said, slipping off his shoes and setting them neatly under the bench.  “Do you want something to eat?”

“I can make something for both of us,” Eric offered quickly. “I’ll make some tea too.”  He shrugged out of his coat and hung it up beside Alan’s.  “You go sit down.”

“That’s sweet,” Alan smiled, and stood up on his toes to kiss Eric on the cheek.  “Thank you.”

“Just let me get changed,” the tall reaper said, brushing the spot his friend’s lips had touched with his fingertips before heading off down the hall.  Alan scooped up Blossom, who was standing by his feet, before going to his own room.

I _IIIIII_ I

Quarter of an hour later, Alan glanced up from where he was reading a book on the couch and looked around.  He realized there hadn’t been a sound from the kitchen, and no sign of Eric since they arrived home.  Both cats were curled up on his lap and he didn’t really feel like getting up, so he called from where he was.

“Eric?”

There was no answer, so he tried again.  “Eric?  Are you in the kitchen?”

Stillness was all he received so, with a sigh, the reaper slipped a bookmark in between the pages of his novel and stood, sending the cats slinking irritably to other parts of the couch.  Going into the kitchen, Alan found no sign of any food making process, nor the brewing of tea.

_‘What is he doing?’_

Going to Eric’s bedroom door, Alan saw light was seeping out from underneath it.  He lifted his hand and knocked.  “Eric?  Are you in there?”

A short moment of silence later Alan placed his hand on the knob and hesitantly turned it, opening the door to peek into the room.  The light was on, sending a yellow glow over the bed.  Lying there was Eric, on top of the covers and snoring.  He was stilly fully clothed, though most of the buttons on his shirt were undone and his belt was unbuckled.

Shaking his head, Alan walked into the room, maneuvering past the clothes on the floor, and stopped by the side of the mattress, looking down at his friend.  A soft smile settled on the reaper’s face as he watched Eric sleep, and a deep sense of affection touched his heart.

“Oh, Eric,” he whispered, gently removing the reaper’s glasses from his nose. “If you need to sleep, just say you’re tired.”  Placing the spectacles on the nightstand, he turned out the light, leaving the room lit only by the glow from the hall.  Then, very delicately so he wouldn’t wake Eric, Alan kissed the tall reaper on his forehead with a soft, “Goodnight,” before tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam's opera obsession is one of my favorite things, tbh.


	40. Rewind

When Eric’s alarm went off at seven ‘o’ clock a.m., Alan read the news patiently for ten minutes before knocking on the tall reaper’s door to wake him up.  The procedure had become a regular course of action in their flat, but this morning Alan felt bad about making Eric get up. He hoped he had gotten enough sleep to last through the day.

It had been too rough for the tall reaper lately, Alan thought.  Two weeks had passed since the opera and Eric’s schedule had been crazy busy since he had taken on extra work.  Alan found it admirable that Eric wished to spare the younger reapers as many brutal retrievals as he could, but he worried for his friend’s health.  Most days they had been able to spend the late evenings together, as well as lunch, but yesterday Eric had worked morning to night nonstop.  Alan had only seen him briefly at breakfast and then heard him come in late at night, 3:00am by his watch, far later than the usual time he ended for his shift.

“I have hash browns,” he called gently through the door.  “Get ‘em while they’re hot!”

When Eric entered the kitchen several minutes later, he looked even more tired than he had the night before.  “Smells good,” the tall reaper said in a drowsy tone as he leaned against the doorframe.  Standing at the sink washing his cup, Alan took him in and frowned.  There were dark smudges under Eric’s eyes and he seemed to have worn his work cloths to bed.

“Black tea?” Alan asked, pouring hot water over the leaves when Eric nodded and staggered to the island, slumping onto one of the stools.  Pushing the drink and a plate of hash browns and eggs over to the tall reaper, Alan sat down across the island, eyeing Eric as he ate.

“Are you going to change?” he ventured to ask, and Eric shrugged.

“Meh.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”  Alan drew his and Eric’s scheduling folders toward him from where they lay open.  “We’ve both got five of the same jobs this afternoon.  Will’s paired us again.  He’s doing that more.”

“I saw,” Eric said.  “Nice of him, to give us more time to be together.”  He appeared to be more alert after downing the tea, but even the cheerful remark seemed gloomy.  Alan closed the folders and reached over, placing his hand over Eric’s.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Eric glanced up at him, and seemed about to say something, but then interrupted himself with a grin.  “Just a bit tired.  I’ve only got paperwork all morning anyway.”

“I can take your afternoon jobs,” Alan offered.  “I’m right there anyway.”

Eric squeezed his hand.  “I’m fine.”  Standing, he stretched before placing his dirty dishes in the sink. “We’d better get going.”

Alan wasn’t sure he believed Eric was ‘fine’, but didn’t push the subject.  He simply put away the food and resolved to keep a close eye on his friend as much as he could for the remainder of the day.

“Mr. Eccles is going to be in town in the late afternoon, same as us,” the reaper informed Eric as they gathered their bags and put on their suitcoats.  “Perhaps we could meet him for dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Eric agreed, and they headed out.

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric drew back from the body of the man, looking at the cinematic record of this latest soul.  Killed by internal bleeding caused by two bullets.  Another one dead by the doings of a London gang.  Eric dismissed the soul and it vanished in the customary flash of blue light.  Opening his folder, he stamped the man’s face.

“Nothing to report,” he muttered.

Glancing over, he saw Alan was still studying the soul of a rough looking fellow.  Eric assumed the young man he had just sent on his way had managed to put up a good fight before he was killed.  The gang member appeared pretty damaged, covered in bruises and blood.

Alan was going through the man’s record with immaculate care, taking in every moment to his life to assess if his death should commence this day.  Alan always took longer to review a life, no matter what sort of messed up one it had been.

Closing his eyes, Eric pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the headache building up in his temple.  It had come on suddenly the other night and he wished it would go away.  It didn’t help that it had been followed up by a bad dream.

He didn’t need any reminders of what his life had been as a human.

“Eric?”

The tall reaper started, opening his eyes to see Alan approaching him.  The thug was still lying in the street behind the reaper.  Eric propped his scythe on his shoulder and forced a smile.

“Only one more soul to go.”

“Then we can rest,” Alan agreed, and Eric looked away from his scrutiny.

“You don’t have to come along on this one,” Eric said. “It’s only one soul.”

“I’ll come,” his friend insisted. “Then we can meet up with Mr. Eccles together.”

Eric’s head hurt too much to argue so he just nodded and headed down the alley, trying not to let Alan see the discomfort he was feeling.   _‘I don’t get sick,’_ he thought. _‘I’m just tired.’_

I _IIIIII_ I

The final afternoon retrieval was outside of London, in the farming community, and the hot walk did nothing to help Eric’s head.   _‘I can’t wait to get something to drink,’_ he thought as he and Alan approached the small ramshackle house that sat waiting for them.

The place was tucked in a grove of pine trees and would have looked rather cozy, had it been properly taken care of.  As it was, it didn’t look like anyone had cared to fix the house or tend the lawn in a long time, and Eric pushed open the low, squeaky gate, entering the yard.

Trailing a few steps behind, Alan was looking at the soul’s profile.  “Harvey Valton,” he read out loud.  “Age fifty-two.  He’s shot in the heart…”

The moment the words passed Alan’s lips, there came a crash from inside the house. Glancing at each other, the two reapers hurried forward.  A loud voice was shouting now, and there was the bark of a dog.  As Eric reached the door, the sharp cry of a child reached his ears and he froze, hand on the doorknob.  The words were clear now, loud through the cracks around the door.

“This dog is eating our food!”

“No!” screamed a boy’s voice, “No, Daddy, don’t hurt him!”

Eric pushed open the door and stepped inside, oblivious to Alan coming in behind him, having eyes only for the scene in the small room.  Harvey, tall and grizzled, was holding the yellow furred dog by the scruff of its neck, and the animal’s eyes were sad and confused.  The boy, who Eric guessed was nine or ten, was standing by the table, hands outstretched to stop the harm his father would deal to his best friend.  A half-eaten biscuit lay on the floor between them.

“I gave her the food,” the boy was sobbing, “She was hungry!”

“Wasting our good food on this?” The man shook the dog, who whined loudly.  The pitiful sound made the boy gasp and reach out for the animal, but Harvey struck his hand away.  “You little brat! You’re getting a good beating when I’m done with the mutt!  Give me the shotgun.”

The boy glanced back at the gun that lay on the table, and Eric’s heart jumped, beating so hard he thought it would burst.

“Give me the gun!” Harvey shouted.  “Give it to me or I’ll shoot you too!”

The boy looked at his father and Eric saw the resolve suddenly light his eyes.

“Don’t do it, kid,” he muttered. “It’s not worth it!”

Grabbing the shotgun, the boy jammed it to his shoulder and swung it around, pointing it as his tormentor.  “Let him go!”

Shaking, Eric took a step forward.   _‘It’s not worth it, kid! It’s not worth the rest of your life!’_

Alan’s hand gripped his, tightly, holding him back. “Eric,” he whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Drop the gun, boy,” Harvey growled, and Eric saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.  The boy didn’t move, tears streaming down his face.

“Let Charlie go!”

The man smirked, holding the dog tightly to his chest. “Shoot me and shoot him too.”

“I won’t shoot him,” the boy whispered, and lowered the barrel of the shotgun.  Harvey laughed and lowered Charlie.

“You’re weak, boy!  And you’re in big trouble!”

“Shut up!” the boy cried, swinging the gun up, and Eric could almost feel the weight of the old shotgun in his hands again.

_“Put down the gun, boy!”_

_“I don’t have to listen to you anymore!”_

The tall reaper flinched as the blast shattered through the house.  The sound was agonizingly familiar, and watching Harvey fall back, blood blossoming over his shirt, he saw the face of a different man, his own father, and his knees almost buckled.

“Eric?”

Dragging his gaze to Alan, Eric saw his friend’s face was pale, and he was looking at him anxiously.  “Eric?  Are you okay?”

“Charlie! You’re okay now, buddy!”

The dog bounded over to his best friend and the boy wrapped his arms around the furry neck.  Looking over Charlie’s shoulder, the boy stared at what he had done and began to tremble.  He had killed a man, his own flesh and blood…

The boy let out a gasp as suddenly a figure materialized over his father’s body.  A tall man, wearing a suit and holding a shiny saw, which he drove into Harvey’s chest.  After a short second, the man flicked his weapon in dismissal and turned to the boy.

“Don’t worry, kid,” the man said, “You didn’t kill him.  I did.”

The boy opened his mouth, hardly able to get the words out.  “Are-are you an angel?”

The man let out a dry sort of chuckle.  “Let me tell you something, kid.  The next world might sound a perfect place, but unless you live this life to the fullest, it doesn’t mean a damn thing, understand?”

The boy nodded and Eric crouched in front of him, ruffling the dog’s fur.  “You got a place you can go?”

“Mrs. Lucky’s real nice to me,” the boy answered, and Eric smiled.

“Get on over there, then.  Take Charlie and go be happy, alright?”

“Okay,” the boy agreed, and Eric stood.  With a salute, he went to the door, paused for a second near it, and then left.  Getting to his feet, the boy ran to the window and looked out, but the yard was empty of any living soul.

I _IIIIII_ I

“Eric!  Eric, please wait!”

Rewind, rewind... the present was unraveling, looping back to the past, and moments played on repeat in Eric's head, making it feel like his mind would explode.  He leaned against the fence-post at the edge of the yard and waited for Alan to catch up.  He didn’t want to talk to his friend.  He wanted to be alone, he had to gather himself up again and patch the broken pieces.  That old feeling was settling onto his shoulders, the helpless, falling sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he didn’t want Alan to see it.

And at the same time he wished he could fall into his partner’s arms and never leave.

“Eric,” Alan said, reaching him and looking into his face, “Please talk to me.”

The tall reaper covered his eyes, head pounding, and Alan’s delicate fingers gently pulled his hands away, holding them tight.  “I’m here, love,” he said quietly, and Eric let out a breath that was more like a sob.

“I-I remembered… he was just like…”  He looked away from Alan’s face.  “I have t-to go…”

“Go where?” Alan asked as Eric stepped back, reaching for the gate.  His hand found the wood and he pushed it, making the hinges creak mournfully.

“I just-, work,” Eric answered, moving backwards away from the house.  Alan went through the gate, causing it to groan again, the sound like a cry of pain.  The reaper’s eyes were wide, his brow pulled together, his confusion and worry for his friend apparent in every action.

“Work?  Eric, I don’t think-!”

Eric knew he was faster than small, slender Alan.  So he did what he’d done every time his past caught up with him.

He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hard to write... T_T -_-;


	41. Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of special. Not because of the words themselves, (To be honest not too much happens here ^ ^) but because this chapter marks the exact one year anniversary of Unmei. One year ago today, February 26th 2017, I posted the first chapter, which is pretty exciting to think about, considering I had no idea I would still be uploading chapters a year from then.  
>  The number of hits and kudos this story has received makes me so happy but even more so is the idea that so many people enjoy reading it. I couldn't and wouldn't be here without everyone who continues to read.  
>  A special thanks to Nicki, who has been reading since almost the first chapter. She's always there to have a chat about our precious grim reapers and to keep me positive about the direction this story takes. It wouldn't be half as fun without you! ♥  
>  Thank you so much to everyone who is still with me on Chapter 41. I can't express my appreciation and I hope this fandom's love for Alan and Eric keeps on growing.  
>  Thank you!  
>  ~TopHatCat

Mr. Eccles glanced at his pocket watch.  The small brass hands read six ‘o’ nine and the teacher slipped the circular timepiece back into his coat.  His friends should be arriving any minute now, by what Alan had said that morning over the phone.

“It’s been too long since you and Eric and I have sat down,” the reaper had noted.  “Are you free this evening?”

Happily, a board meeting had been cancelled so Eccles had finished his classes, worked a retrieval, and then headed to the Songbird Café to spend a pleasant hour or two with Alan and Eric before plunging back into the business that was a reaper’s life.

Another minute had passed when Eccles saw the familiar form of Alan coming toward him down the street.  A smile on his face, the teacher stood, prepared to greet his friend, but before he could say a word of welcome, he knew something was wrong.  Alan was half running, and when he reached Eccles, anxiety tainted the air around him like a fog.

“I’m so sorry,” Alan said, taking in deep breaths, “But something’s the matter with Eric.  Could I borrow your bike?”

“Oh my goodness,” Eccles said, handing the reaper a glass of water, “What on earth happened? Is Eric alright?”

“I think he’s…” Alan hesitated and took a gulp of water.  “I think he’s remembering things,” he continued, choosing the words delicately.

Eccles understood at once what Alan meant.  “Dear me, for him to be affected this way…  Of course you may take my bike, Alan.”

“Thank you,” Alan said, dashing for the bicycle that leaned against one of the chairs, “You know how he likes to fix to things.”

“Indeed,” Eccles answered, clearly recalling the times he had seen Eric with a bottle in his hand.  “But if anyone can really mend him, it’s you.”

Alan blushed, and hit the kickstand, rolling the bike into the street. “Thank you, Mr. Eccles!”

“Please tell me when everything is alright!” the teacher called after Alan as he peeled off down the road.  Watching the reaper disappear around the corner, Eccles sank into the café chair with a sigh.  This was the second time he’d been a part of one of their relapses, and he prayed that Eric would overcome this as Alan had.

Getting to his feet, the teacher stuck his hands into his pockets and started down the walk, the sun glinting off the shop windows into his eyes.  Turning his face to the clear blue of the sky, he took a deep breath.

_‘As long as Alan’s at his side, Eric will be okay.’_

I _IIIIII_ I

When he reached the house, the car wasn’t in the front, so Alan kept going until he reached the Dispatch Building.  He saw the orange sports car at once, parked haphazardly in the lot.  Resting Eccles’ bike against the side of the building, Alan pushed through the front doors, making his way hastily through the main hall.   He bumped into several people, but hardly paused to apologize before he was gone again.

The lift seemed to take forever, but when he finally turned the handle of Eric’s office door, entering without a knock of warning, he found the room dark and empty.  Pausing to catch his breath, Alan backed slowly out into the hall.

_‘The car’s here. Where is he?’_

Turning, he saw no one to question and went to the next door, rapping on the wood.

“Grell?  Grell are you in there?”

“Just a moment!”

Alan let out a huff of breath.  He didn’t have a moment!  Turning the knob, he opened the door, receiving a shriek from Grell as she yanked a white blouse over her head.

“ _Alan_!  I know I’m stunning, but all of _this_ is Will’s tonight!”  The red reaper flicked her hair out of her eyes and sighed. “Can’t get away from longing eyes anywhere in this city!”

“Grell, I need to know if Eric’s here,” Alan said, ignoring her chatter.  “The car’s parked in the lot but his office is empty.”

“He was here for a minute but left right away,” Grell answered, straightening her shirt.  “Think he took that bottle of ‘07 he keeps behind his desk.”  The reaper leaned on her desk, chin in hand. “What’s up?  What’s going on with you two?”

“He must have walked home…” Alan said to himself.  “And he’s probably drinking… Oh goodness…”

“Are you having problems?” Grell asked, her voice breathy. “Is it romantic?”

“It’s personal,” Alan replied, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.  As he reached the lift he heard Grell call, “I’m always in the market for personal gossip!”

Alan shook his head, impatient as the lift took him down and he ran out, snagging Eccles’ bike and pedaling as hard as could toward home.  He rode into the yard out of breath and gasping for air, dropped the bike to the ground in his haste, and made for the door.  Going into the hall, he let out a small cry as he collided with the owner of the first floor flat.

“Mr. Hayze!” he said, getting over his initial shock and stepping back from the reaper. “Do you know if Eric has come home?”

“Excuse you too,” Hayze said, straightening his coat.  “Mr. Slingby may have returned, as there was a sound from above, though it could have been the cats knocking over another vase.”

“Alright,” Alan said, dashing up the stairs and leaving Hayze shaking his head as he left the house.

At the landing, Alan found the front door open.  He had certainly locked it that morning; there was no doubt about that.  Entering the house, he saw Eric’s death scythe lying on the floor along with his bag.

Picking up the tool, Alan set it carefully on the bench and walked into the kitchen.  “Eric?” he called, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.  The only reply he got was Potato and Blossom trotting into the kitchen to greet him.

“Where’s Eric, dears?” Alan asked, rubbing the felines’ heads before going back into the hall.  Crossing to the living room door, he paused, feeling the breeze from the open balcony doors on his face.  Moving to them, he let out a soft sigh.

“Oh, Eric…”

The reaper was sitting with his back against the railing, knees drawn to his chest, head bowed, fingers entwined in his hair as if he was trying to yank the memories from his brain.  Alan knelt in front of him, his heart aching with pity.

“Hey,” he said softly, touching his partner’s knee.  “It’s me.”

Eric slowly lifted his head, his eyes blurry from tears or alcohol, or both, Alan didn’t know.  It didn’t matter.  He watched sadly as the tall reaper struggled to fix his gaze on Alan’s face.

This wasn’t the Eric he knew, the strong one, the one who carried him through the hardships of his test, the one who stole his heart and held him close.  This was the side Alan didn’t know, the part he had hardly seen, the lost, broken side that had been ripped apart by the hauntings of the past.

“I don’t want to remember,” Eric whispered, his green eyes locked with Alan’s gaze as if it were the only thing keeping him afloat in the darkness.  “Why’d I have to remember, Alan?”

“Hush,” Alan whispered, trying to keep his voice steady.  It was his turn to be strong for Eric now, and he wasn’t going to let his partner down.  “It’s alright.”  He touched Eric’s cheek and the tall reaper half-closed his eyes, tilting his head into Alan’s hand.  Under his fingers, Alan felt the hot flush of Eric’s skin, sweaty and warm despite the cool evening air.

 _‘Overworked, tired, drunk, and on top of it all, sick too,’_ thought the reaper, _‘No wonder your memories are hurting you tonight.’_

Going to Eric’s side, Alan put his arm around the reaper and helped him to his feet, steadying him as much as he could.  “Come on, love, you’re going to bed.”

Eric was heavy on his shoulder, but Alan didn’t mind.  Taking slow steps, they made it to the bedroom and Alan sat Eric on the bed before kneeling and slipping his friend’s shoes off.

“I’m sorry, Al…”

Alan glanced up at Eric, who now had obvious tears pooling in his eyes.  “I’m sorry I’m like this.  Can’t stop drowning my problems in alcohol for even one goddamn day…”

“Silly,” Alan replied kindly, rising and drawing Eric close, heart beating faster, “You don’t have to apologize to me.”

Eric sighed, his head resting on Alan’s chest as the other reaper undid the buttons of his shirt, slipping the top off and dropping it to the floor.  Alan’s fingers hesitated over his partner’s belt, unsure of his actions.

 _‘He will sleep better with it off,’_ the reaper scolded himself, undoing the buckle, _‘Don’t overreact.’_

Cupping the back of Eric’s head with his hand, he helped him lay into the pillows and pulled the sheet up around him.  Removing Eric’s glasses, he brushed the reaper’s hair away from his face, the golden blond locks damp with sweat.  Already he seemed more relaxed, and resting a hand on his shoulder, Alan could feel his muscles had loosened.

“Do you need anything?” he whispered, and Eric lifted his eyelids.

“Maybe a kiss…”

“You’re better already,” Alan replied with a smile.  He leaned down and gave Eric a soft kiss on the cheek before drawing back.  “I’m going to get you a glass of water,” he said, gathering up the shoes and belt and setting them neatly on the chest at the end of the bed.  The shirt he took to put in the laundry room.  “Just be still and I’ll be back, alright?”

“’kay...” Eric replied drowsily, and Alan left the room.

In the hall, he leaned against the wall and rubbed his eyes. Eric seemed relatively okay for the moment, but Alan could clearly remember the time he had fallen back into memories of his life as a human.  It hadn’t been a good day, not at all, and from what Alan picked up, Eric’s life, his childhood, had been much darker than his own.

“Stop worrying and do something,” he said to himself, going through Eric’s home office to the small laundry room tucked behind paneled bi-fold doors.  Tossing Eric’s shirt into the hamper, he went on to the kitchen.

“Some tea wouldn’t do him any harm,” Alan mentioned to Blossom, who was sitting on one of the kitchen stools.  “Ginger would be good for him now.”

The cat blinked at him, watching as Alan began heating water and took the tan ginger root from the freezer, shredding it into a tea steeper.  Waiting for the water to boil, he dumped food into the cats’ bowl, which brought Potato running to the kitchen from the other room.

Pouring the hot water over the ginger, Alan stirred in a little honey, filled a separate glass with water, and went back to Eric’s room.  Going in, he found the tall reaper lying with a pillow over his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, setting the cups on the nightstand.

“Light,” mumbled Eric and Alan quickly went to the wall and switched off the overhead lamp.

“That better?”

Eric nodded, moving the pillow down and Alan motioned to the cup.  “I made you some tea. It’s ginger so it should help your head.  If you need anything else just tell me, okay?”

“Thanks,” Eric answered with a sigh.  He pinched the bridge of his nose and then his eyes flew open. “Oh crap, I’ve got three more retrievals at eight…”

Alan frowned, and touched his friend’s forehead.  Eric was burning up, far more than even a few minutes ago and too hot for Alan’s liking.  “Oh no,” he said, “You’re staying right here in bed.”

“I can’t ignore the job, Alan, you know that.”  With a groan, Eric pushed back the sheet and sat up, his movements sluggish.

Clicking his tongue, Alan shook his head, putting his hand on Eric’s chest to stop him from rising.  “You won’t do any good for yourself if you get out of bed now,” he protested.  Whether Eric would collapse from the sickness or his memories, Alan didn’t care.  He wasn’t letting him out of the house like this.  Just looking at him, he could see the cracks in Eric’s heart and the raw pain from his past still clinging to him.  His skin was hot under Alan’s fingers, soft and smooth… his chest strong and tanned…

“I can’t skip a job,” Eric said, breaking Alan out of his thoughts.  The smaller reaper moved back quickly, rubbing his finger with his other hand.

“I’ll call Will,” he stammered, but Eric was to out of it to notice his blush.  “Don’t get up.”  He needn’t have said the warning; the tall reaper was already slowly sinking back to the mattress.  “Drink some water and try to rest.”

Going out into the hall, Alan closed the door and placed a hand on his chest.  He could feel his heart beating under his ribcage, faster than normal and twice as erratically.

 _‘This is the absolute wrong time to be thinking such thoughts,’_ he admonished himself.   _‘Letting your mind wander like that while he’s sick in bed!  Really, Alan, now is not the moment to be distracted by the magnetism of an attractive man like Eric Slingby.’_

Just thinking of the tall reaper, hot and sweaty in bed, was making his head wander to ideas he had never given much thought to before.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself, hurrying to call Will before his brain strayed too far.  Picking up the phone, he read Will’s office number off the paper taped to the wall and waited for the ringing to stop.

“Spears.”

“Hello, it’s Alan,” the reaper said, “Eric’s…  He’s not feeling well and he has retrievals to finish tonight.”

“Well, he can’t miss-,” Will suddenly cut himself off and Alan heard a murmur of a second voice.  “Just a moment.”

Alan waited patiently as a soft conversation took place on the other end of the line, and then Will’s voice came through again.

“Humphries?”

“Yes,” Alan replied. “Mr. Spears, I could do Eric’s work-.”

“There is no need,” Will said.  “Mr. Eccles has just offered to take Slingby’s retrievals for the evening.”

A warm fondness filled Alan and he smiled, though he knew no one could see his thankful expression. “Do tell Mr. Eccles that I am very grateful,” he said. “He is far too kind.”

“I will convey the message,” Will agreed, and his voice softened a bit. “And Alan, tell Eric I hope he regains his health soon.”

Alan’s smile deepened.  “I’ll tell him, Will.”

“We can’t let a level one reaper slack off when there is work to be done,” Will added, back to his usual sharp tone.

Alan refrained from laughing and simply replied, “Of course not, Mr. Spears.  Thank you and goodbye.”

Hanging up the phone, the reaper headed back to the bedroom to tell Eric he didn’t have to worry about his retrievals anymore.   _‘Thank you, Mr. Eccles,_ ’ he thought, _‘It’s far better that I stay here with him right now.’_

Opening the door, Alan walked into the dim room to find the glass of water empty and Eric lying on his stomach, fast asleep.  Alan pulled the sheet up around his friend’s sleeping form, kissed him gently on the head and left the room with the empty glass, leaving Eric to rest in peace.


	42. Back Home

It was late when Alan finally decided to go to bed.

“Twelve thirty,” he murmured, glancing at his watch.  “Late for me.”

The cats were curled up beside him, having decided the blanket he was using was a good place to fall asleep.  Potato lifted her head and Blossom began purring when Alan closed his book, marking it with a bookmark and setting it on the coffee table.

“Time for me to go to bed, dears,” he said to the felines, pushing back the blanket and sliding his feet into his slippers.  Blossom deemed the occasion not important enough to rise for and promptly fell back asleep, but Potato followed Alan as he turned out the living room lamp and headed for the kitchen.  Too tired to wash his cup, he set it in the sink, and turned off the light over the stove before checking the front door to make sure it was locked.

Going down the hall, he decided to check in on Eric one more time.  It had been little less than an hour since he peeked in last, and the reaper had been resting easy when he had.

Carefully opening the door, Alan peered in, using the hall light to see into the dark room.  Eric was still passed out in bed, but he had tossed back the covers since Alan had looked in last, and must have woken, for his trousers were on the floor and the glass of water was empty again.

Alan refilled the glass and brought it back, kissing Eric’s forehead before he left.

“Sleep well,” he whispered, before leaving the room to climb into his own bed.

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric did not sleep well at all.

He wasn’t at home anymore.  Or, perhaps he was, his first home, if it could be called that.  The small cabin in the forest had been what he called home for a good sixteen years of his life, though it had never been worthy of the title…

Eric’s pace became quicker as he travelled through the trees.  The path was small, a single rut going through the pines and oaks.  He was late again, too late, the sun was already nearly set, the last shreds of orange light filtering through the branches over his head.  The dog beside him ran to keep up, thinking the quick pace was a fun game they had decided to play.

 _‘Daddy will be so angry!’_ he thought, his nine year-old legs moving faster and faster, carrying him down the hill to house that sat in the clearing, smoke drifting out of its chimney.  When he finally reached the wooden walls, he slowed, panting, and crept the last few feet to the window.

Peeking in, he first saw his own reflection in the grimy pane, eyes wide, wavy brown hair tousled, but then he focused past himself to the room beyond.

_‘Please don’t be home!’_

But there he was, sitting at the table while Mum stirred something in the pot over the stove.  Eric took a deep breath and his fingers turned white on the sill, he was gripping it so hard.  He had to go in.  He deserved what was coming.  He’d been a bad boy, staying out so late.

“Go to bed,” he whispered to the dog, and she ran for the barn, happily obeying the order her friend gave her.

The door creaked as he opened it, and he shuffled into the room, trying to be as small as possible.  He had nearly reached the stairs to the loft where he slept when his daddy’s voice broke the strained calm.

“Eric.”

The boy froze, one foot on the bottom step.  He looked over, seeing his mum was frowning, but the man hadn’t risen.   “Yes, sir?” he answered.

Hastings Slingby turned in his chair now, eyes on his son.  “Come here.”

Eric didn’t want to.  He wanted to run back outside to where he knew Friend was waiting in the barn, ready to jump up and lick his cheek, always prepared to play a game of fetch the stick or roll in the hay.  But instead he walked forward to stand beside his daddy’s chair.

Eric winced. “I…”

“It’s late!” Hastings yelled suddenly, making Eric jump. “You were supposed to be home before suppertime to help your mother!”

“I’m sorry!” Eric said, forcing himself to remain still.  “I was in the middle of London!”

“I won’t have a boy who disrespects his elders!” Hastings said, rising from his chair.  He went to where Eric knew he would, the little peg by the fireplace with the braid of leather looped around it.

“I didn’t mean to be out so late!” Eric begged, shaking, finally making an attempt to get away by rounding to the other side of the table.  “I forgot-!”

“Forgot a specific order I gave you?” Hastings gestured to the boy. “Get on over here.”

Eric glanced at his mum, but she just shook her head.  “Your father told you to be home before dark and you should have been,” she snapped. “Don’t expect any mercy from me.”

Hastings crossed to the boy, who cringed as his daddy took hold of his upper arm and dragged him across the room.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, “I won’t do it again!”

“Sure,” Hastings sneered. “Go on, then, shirt off and get your hands against the wall.”

“I d-don’t want to…” Eric whispered, but he knew words would have little effect on his punishment.

“I said take your shirt off!” Hastings shouted, his hand connecting with the boy’s face.  “Take it off or I’ll take it off for you!”

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Eric pulled his top up over his head and dropped it to the floor.  Turning, he braced his hands against the rough wooden wall of the house and tried to stop trembling.

“I don’t want a peep out of you,” Hastings said, and Eric could hear the sound of leather as it unrolled and the end slapped the floor.  The familiar sound of the cord cutting the air reached his ear and he took the blow with a quiet gasp.

“Every noise you make gets you an extra lash,” Hastings warned, and Eric could hear him shifting, readying for the next strike.  The boy gritted his teeth, tried to burn away the pain with anger, focused on the wood beneath his palms as the leather broke his skin.

But it’s hard for a young boy to be brave, and so instead he cried.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan woke an hour later to a burst of noise.

He was still, eyes wide in the darkness, unsure at first if he had heard anything.   _‘Perhaps it was a dream,’_ he thought, and lay there, listening to the silence.  Not another sound came in the short time he waited, but he was too alert for it to have come from a fantasy, so he pushed back the blankets and donned his robe to investigate.

Creeping into the hall, he paused, quiet, but there was nothing the air besides the calmness of the night.

 _‘I’d better check on Eric,’_ he thought, opening his friend’s door.

The second he stepped into the room, he knew it was Eric he had heard.  The reaper was lying on his side, arms wrapped around himself, making a tormented whimpering sound that had Alan’s heart beating faster in distress.  As he moved toward the bed, Eric suddenly let out a string of incomprehensible words, turning his head back and forth so Alan was afraid he might hurt himself.

Quickly turning on the lamp, Alan sat on the mattress, placing his hand on Eric’s shoulder and shaking him.

“Eric, wake up!  It’s okay, you’re okay!”

It took a good minute for Eric to come out of his nightmare, and when he did, he looked at Alan with red rimmed eyes, and then buried his face in the reaper’s chest.  He wasn’t crying, but his entire body shook against Alan.

“Shh, shh,” Alan said comfortingly, stroking his hair and holding him close.  He rubbed Eric’s back and winced at the raw marks the reaper’s fingers had made.  Eric had clawed his skin till it almost bled, and Alan dipped his fingers in the water on the nightstand and placed the cool liquid on the red scratches, continuing to whisper soothing words.  Drawing his legs up onto the bed, he pulled the only blanket that hadn’t fallen to the floor up about them, tucking the cloth around Eric like a cocoon.

The tall reaper had calmed down by now, though his breathing was still shaky.  It was a long while before Alan was positive he was asleep again, this time peacefully.  He wondered what the nightmare had been.  From everything he knew, it had been about Eric’s family.  Alan could still clearly remember the way Eric had reacted earlier, upon seeing the boy kill his father, and unease drifted onto his shoulders.

What had Eric done?  Why had that gun in the boy’s hands frightened him so?

“Well, you’re quiet now,” he said softly, looking into Eric’s face.  “And your past is yours, not mine to investigate…”

_‘Even if I dearly wish to know.  Perhaps I could ease your conscious…about whatever you may have done.’_

He made to get up, to go back to his own bed, planning to leave the doors open should Eric have another nightmare.  But before he could move, Eric shifted, his arm across Alan’s middle curving, nestling closer to the other reaper.  Alan looked down, but his friend was still asleep, unconsciously begging him to stay.

“Alright then,” Alan answered with a sad smile.  “I won’t leave you alone.  Don’t worry.”

Reaching over, he turned out the light and lay back into the pillow.  His hand drifted around to rest on Eric’s side, to unconsciously check if he was in pain, and there he found a series of small bumps that caused a frown to grow on his face.  The reaper’s fingertips traced them, feeling the short narrow length of them, and he knew they were scars.  This is what Eric had been gripping at in his sleep, remembering what had caused them…

Alan’s family, although lost too soon, had been loving, sweet, and Alan’s heart ached to think of how different his friend’s family could have been.

“I’ll be your family now,” he murmured quietly.  “And I won’t ever hurt you.”

It took a while for him to fall asleep, Eric’s past haunting his mind, but the arm around him was holding him in just the right way and eventually he drifted off.

I _IIIIII_ I

“You killed her! You killed Mum!”

“I…” Hastings stepped back, staring at the woman on the floor.  The rolling pin in his hand dropped beside her, then rattled away to rest against the leg of a chair.  “I didn’t mean to hit her that hard.”

Tears were streaming down Eric’s face, his fists clenched.  “You dirty bastard, you killed her! Murderer!”

Hastings turned away from the body, his face twisted into a grimace of anger and fear.  “You don’t tell anybody about this, boy!”

“You should be jailed,” Eric said, “You deserve to be shot!”

“You didn’t love her any more than I did!” Hastings yelled.   He stalked closer to Eric, pointing at him.  “Now you ain’t going to tell anyone about this, you hear me?  You keep your mouth shut!”

Eric took in a breath.  Even at sixteen, he knew he couldn’t take on his father in a fight.  “Make me,” he said.

Hastings let out a breath of anger and reached for the knife at his hip. “You talk, you die, boy.”

Eric glanced at the door over his father’s shoulder. Could he make it? Probably not.  He looked back into the face of the man who had raised him and felt nothing but loathing.  “You can’t kill me. Edward will notice if I don’t show for work.”

“Plenty of brats get knifed in alleys,” Hastings said, holding up the blade. “Don’t make a move toward that door.”

Eric gritted his teeth and ran.

Hastings’ hand clamped around his arm, but Eric kicked out, his foot connecting with the man’s stomach, breaking free.  The door was still miles away, at least that’s how it seemed to Eric.   So he dove for the only thing he thought might help him.

Hastings froze as the barrel of the shotgun was aimed at him.  Breathing heavily, the man took a step back.  “Put it down.”

“Let me walk out of here and I will,” Eric gasped.  His hands were sweaty, but his grip was tight around the weapon.  It was an awful feeling, to be pointing a weapon at another human being, but he didn’t see any other way out of this hellhole he called home.

“Put down the gun, boy!”

“I don’t have to listen to you anymore!”

Hastings moved, a single step forward, and Eric’s finger reacted in fear.  He could feel the blast all the way to his feet, and he staggered back a bit.  Not from the kick of the shotgun, but from the weight of what he had just done.  The burst of smoke from the barrel seemed to consume everything, the house, the gun, even Eric himself.

“Ah!”

Eric sat bolt upright, struggling for breath and trying to comprehend where he was.  Looking around, he found the familiar surroundings of his bedroom, lit by the bedside lamp.  He was in bed, soaked in sweat and aching from head to toe, but the small wooden house was gone.  There was a dent in the mattress beside him, but he was alone in the room.

 _‘I kill people every day,’_ he thought, glancing down at his shaking hands.   _‘Why does this one keep coming back to me?’_

He’d killed countless people, people he didn’t know, good ones, bad ones… It didn’t matter, did it? Everything would be gone in the end anyway.  Everything was pulled into that merciless blackness known as death…

“Alan?” he whispered, gripping the blanket and twisting it as he struggled to remain calm, “Alan!”

“I’m here,” came the gentle voice and Eric looked up as Alan entered.  “Just went to the bathroom.”  The reaper came to the bed and sat down, brushing Eric’s hair away from his eyes.  “Feeling any better?”

Eric immediately felt calmer with Alan by his side, and he nodded.  “What time is it?”

Alan glanced at the bedside clock. “Little past three,” he said.  Looking back to Eric he asked, “Did you have another dream?”

“Yeah…” Eric rubbed his eyes and Alan touched his arm comfortingly.

“You want to talk about it?”

He shouldn’t… He really should just go back to sleep, let Alan rest, lock it up and try to forget it all in the morning.  But he couldn’t.  Turning his gaze to Alan, he nodded.  

“Yes…yes I do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble coming up with Eric's past. He seems pretty damaged so I tried to think of something really horrible to have happened. If anyone disagrees/has thoughts about what I've decided, don't be afraid to leave a comment!


	43. My Eric Slingby

Alan crossed his legs on the bed, taking Eric hand, his expression one of concern.  He didn’t say anything, letting Eric take his time as he began his story.

“He didn’t love us,” the tall reaper said.  “He didn’t care.  She didn’t either.  The door was unlocked, but none of us could get out.  We were all stuck in that house and, no matter what we all kept coming back to it at the end of the day.  It was like we were all tied together with some hellish chain that we couldn’t break.  I couldn’t leave, dammit.  I just couldn’t!”

Alan’s grip tightened on his hands, his gaze tearful but intense, and Eric drew strength from him.

“When people talk about hell, they say it’s all fire and creatures with red eyes and horns.  They’re wrong.  Hell isn’t just that.  It’s a bastard who beats you until you’re half dead and a woman who thinks you deserve every second of it.  Even when you made a slip-up or just forgot or didn’t do anything at all.  You’re that mistake they made and they tell it to your face.  And you can’t run because they’re your family.”

Alan was crying now, but very quietly, and when Eric suddenly smiled, he touched the tall reaper’s cheek, afraid of the odd expression.  Eric took Alan’s hand and gazed into the reaper’s eyes, but he wasn’t really seeing him as he spoke.

“I had a friend,” he said, his tone losing its painful tone for a moment.   “Just one. Her name was Friend.  I guess I didn’t want anything else in the world more, so that’s what she was, through and through.  She slept in the barn and her fur was soft and brown like chocolate.  She didn’t last long after I left. ” Eric dashed the tears from his eyes, struggling to keep his voice steady.  “But she wouldn’t leave me.  I asked people to take her but she’d always get away and I’d wake up with her beside me.  No matter what alley I’d choose to stay in that night, she’d always be there in the morning.  I couldn’t take care of her right and she got sick…  I think maybe she called me ‘friend’ too…”

Eric couldn’t blink away the tears fast enough now and he wiped his hand across his face, smearing the droplets over his skin.

“It all went wrong when I left…”

His voice cracked and he looked away from Alan.  “He killed Mum…  And I was next if I talked.  And so I grabbed the gun, just to get away.  I just wanted to get away!  I didn’t want to, I just…  But he came toward me and I killed him.”

The words fell from Eric’s mouth like they had been ready to escape for a long time.  Finally free, they filled the air, and Eric could feel them, heavy and humid in the room.  He wondered if Alan could too.

“I’m as bad as him.  All the people I kill now, they’re nothing compared to that.  He wasn’t on any list, I didn’t have the date he was to die.  I just _did_ it.”  Eric gritted his teeth, but nothing stopped his heart from beating painfully, his chest from aching.  “And the streets were almost as cold as the house was.  You know the types of places I found solace.”  Eric nearly choked on his words, ashamed of them.  “Different bars and a different bed every night…. I became more of a bastard than they ever were…”

“Eric,” Alan said sharply, and Eric looked at him.  The reaper’s brow was pulled together, and Eric’s heart twanged.  There it was.  His story was out and Alan could see that he was no better than any of the miscreants whose souls they collected in the darkest alleys of London.

 _‘Well,’_ he thought dully, _‘I’ve gone and scared away the only good thing I’ve got.’_

“Don’t you dare speak about yourself that way,” Alan said, and Eric started in surprise.  The reaper’s voice cracked with sorrow, but his tone was strong.  “You are not your father.  You are Eric Slingby, _my_ Eric Slingby, and what you did was not your choice.  I can’t pretend like I understand what you went through, but I do know this.”  Here Alan gripped Eric’s shoulders looking deep into his eyes. “Your future isn’t something you have to face alone.  We can do it together.”

Eric looked at Alan and the flood of misery he had spoken into the room dissipated as if chased away by the very presence of the smaller reaper.  Weakening with exhaustion, Eric whispered,

“It was all too much…  I just wanted to get away from everything…”

“I know,” Alan said softly.  “I know.”

He kissed Eric gently, the action one of companionship and love, and the tall reaper drank in his partner, losing himself in Alan’s touch.  Lying Eric back onto the bed, Alan finally pulled away when the tall reaper was settled against the pillow.

“I love you,” he said, but Eric couldn’t find it in himself to relax just yet.

“But everything I’ve done, who I’ve been?” he said, and Alan shook his head.

“You’re here now,” he whispered, “Daffodils.”

Eric recognized the flower at once. “The sun shines when I’m with you,” he said, and Alan nodded with a soft smile.  Eric pushed the last tears from his eyes and wrapped his arms around Alan.  “Stay with me,” he begged.

“Forever,” Alan replied, turning out the light and pulling the blanket up around them.  Eric hugged him in the darkness and cuddled close.  His soul still ached, but it was healing, slowly but surely mended by Alan each day.

In that bed, lying beside the first person his heart had unlocked for, he was finally able to fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

I _IIIIII_ I

Late afternoon sun warmed the upper halves of the buildings in the reaper city as Eccles walked through the gate to Alan and Eric’s house.  The teacher had considered calling on the two reapers that morning, but put off his visit, telephoning Alan at lunchtime to make sure it was alright to call.  The reaper had answered it would be lovely to have him over, though Eric would most likely be sleeping, his fever still transpiring full force.  He had expressed concerns about Eccles catching the bug, but the teacher had insisted on stopping by.

Now he wiped his shoes on the doormat, entered the first-floor hall and started up to the landing.  Knocking, he wasn’t sure at first if he would get a response, but finally the knob turned and the door opened to reveal Alan.

“Afternoon!” the reaper said, stepping aside to Eccles could enter.

“Hello,” Eccles replied, going into the hall and sitting on the bench to untie his shoes, “How are things today?”

“Good, good,” Alan answered, closing the door and leaning against it. “Much better.”

Eccles stood, slipping his feet into the slippers that stayed at Alan and Eric’s house, ready and waiting for when he visited.  Turning his gaze to his friend, he immediately saw the exhaustion in the reaper’s face and stance.  “Why, Alan,” he said, “You look tired enough to go to bed right now.”

Alan smiled wearily, leading the way to the kitchen.  “I didn’t sleep much last night.  Eric’s fever went up again and he… had some trouble sleeping.  Neither of us got much rest.”

“I hope you managed to relax today,” Eccles said.

“I had a few retrievals in the morning and still have some later,” Alan admitted.  “Eric had lots, but Sam took some and I talked Grell into doing the rest.  Oh,” he added, “Thank you so very much for taking Eric’s workload last night.  That was extremely kind of you.”

“Not at all,” Eccles said, sitting at the kitchen island. “Happy to help.  How is Eric doing?”

“Okay.  He’s sleeping on the couch now.” Alan smiled, shaking his head and pulling out a stool for himself.  “This morning he insisted on keeping me company while I did some paperwork.  Thom stayed here while I was out working and according to him, Eric slept the entire time.  He still hasn’t woken since I’ve gotten home.”  Alan cast a glance toward the living room, then threw one hand up into the air. “Goodness, I’m rude! Would you like some tea or anything?”

“I would,” Eccles answered, rising from his seat.  “But I can fix myself a cup, no need for you to get up.”

“So, how are things with you?’ Alan asked as the teacher started filling the teapot with water.  “How are your students?”

“They’re doing just fine,” Eccles said, a smile appearing on his face.  “There’s one older fellow who confessed to me he couldn’t stand writing, but since being in my class he actually enjoys it a bit and may start a journal.”

“That must feel amazing,” Alan said, “Changing someone’s life for the better.  You’re a good teacher.”

Eccles chuckled. “Thank you.” Putting his teabag into a cup, he turned to face Alan and leaned against the counter.  “There’s something surreal about being a teacher.  To be a major influence in people’s lives… It’s an honor and, to be quite honest, a bit magical.”  He looked down into the mug in his hands.  “Especially when it’s children.”

There were no child reapers.  Seventeen was the youngest age a person could die at and become a reaper.  Alan knew Eccles wasn’t talking of his current students now, but of the young lives he must have taught and guided in his human past.

“I would have loved to have been your student when I was younger,” Alan said gently.  “I’m sure you helped the heart of every child you taught.  You certainly touched mine.”

Eccles smiled gratefully at him.  “Likewise.”

They fell into a comfortable silence until the pot began to whistle and Eccles poured two cups of tea.  There was a sound from the hall and Eric came into view, wrapped in a big fluffy green blanket and squinting at the afternoon light entering through the kitchen windows.  At his arrival, Alan slid of his stool and went over to the tall reaper, going up on tiptoe to kiss Eric’s nose.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Eric replied drowsily, and Alan chuckled.

“When are you not?  Here.”  He handed Eric his teacup. “You’re going to get dehydrated if you’re not careful.  You go back to the couch and I’ll fix you something, okay?”

“Thanks,” Eric replied, kissing Alan’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Alan smiled, patting the reaper on the arm before gently pushing him back toward the hall.  “I’ll be with you in a bit.”

Eric nodded, shuffling back out of the kitchen, and Alan glanced at his watch.  “Oh shoot, I have to leave in half an hour.”

“I can stay here, if you’d like me too,” Eccles offered.

“I’m only going to be gone an hour or two…” Alan said, but Eccles heard the hesitation in his tone.  The teacher patted his bag, which sat on the table.

“I have plenty of work to keep me occupied.”

So half an hour later Alan had a sandwich made for Eric and was heading out the door.  Eccles peeked into the living room to find Eric was sleeping again, then sat down at the kitchen table and began grading papers while Blossom slept on his lap.

After a bit he decided to make dinner for Alan and found a cookbook and more than enough vegetables to make a sort of stir-fry.  “I am not the best cook,” he admitted to Potato, who had wandered into the kitchen.  The teacher fed the cat some potato, which she gobbled down at once and then proceeded to wind herself around his legs as he chopped carrots.

Eric came in at one point when Eccles dropped a bowlful of onions after tripping over Blossom, who had decided to lie on the floor right behind him.  The tall reaper sat at the table and they chatted a bit about this and that before eventually Eric fell asleep where he sat, wrapped in his blanket, head resting on his arms.

When Alan returned, Eccles had gotten Eric back to the couch, fed the cats, finished dinner, and cleaned up the kitchen.  Needless to say, Alan was delighted.  They ate dinner together and then Eccles declared he had to go.

Walking out the front door, the teacher paused for a moment by the gate, looking up at the balcony doors, where the glow of the living room lights peeked out from behind the curtains.  With a sigh of content, Eccles got on his bike and started for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making you guys wait for this so long T_T


	44. My Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestion: Listen to Kane Brown's 'Heaven' while reading this.   
> https://youtu.be/dRX0wDNK6S4

It was only a little past eight when Alan finished cleaning the kitchen, a task he had insisted Eccles not stay for.  Wiping his hands with a towel, the reaper glanced at the clock for the time.

 _‘No need to stay up any later than this,’_ he said, putting the cloth on the counter.   _‘I should get Eric into bed.’_

Going into the living room, he found Eric was still lying prone on the couch, his half eaten dinner on the coffee table and both cats curled up on his back.  Moving to the tall reaper’s side, Alan tapped his gently on the shoulder.

“Are you awake?”

“Mmf,” Eric answered, opening his eyes and looking sleepily up at Alan.  “What’s up?”

“I think you should get on to bed,” Alan replied, and Eric nodded into the pillow.

“S’pose you’re right…”  Pushing himself up, Potato hopped away, indignant, while Blossom let himself slide awkwardly down into the couch cushions.  Alan smiled at the feline’s reluctance to move.

“I think Blossom is just as eager to get off this couch as you are,” he said, picking up Eric’s plate.

“I’m imagining how cold my sheets are going to be,” Eric groaned, staggering off through his office and hall to his room.  Alan put the dish in the sink and doubled checked that all the lights around the house were off before following the reaper to the bedroom.  When he knocked and entered, Eric was adjusting the pillows.

“I was right, it’s cold in here,” the tall reaper said.  He was wearing a pair of worn cozy pants and a t-shirt.

“It’s because you’re sick,” Alan explained. “You’ll feel hot and cold alternately.  How are you feeling?  Is your headache any better?”

“Yes,” Eric answered, and Alan nodded, relieved.  Eric pulled the covers up to his chin, then pushed them back again. “Say… Alan.”

“Yes?”   The reaper turned in the doorway to find Eric sitting up, and their eyes met.

“You think maybe you’d care to sleep with me again tonight?”

The question startled Alan so much, every word he might have said fled from his mind.  It wasn’t as much a feeling of surprise as one of joy, mixed with a whole lot of other emotions Alan couldn’t put names too.  After a second of silence Eric sputtered, “Ah, but I’m sick, right.  I shouldn’t have asked…”

Alan realized then he was still staring into Eric’s bright green eyes and quickly looked away.  “You want me to?  Why do you ask…?”

_‘Damn, Alan! Does it matter why?  You want to sleep in his bed, feel him next to you again!  There doesn’t have to be a reason!’_

A small smile appeared on Eric’s face and it sent a shiver down Alan’s spine.  “I told you,” the tall reaper said, “It’s a bit cold in here.  Body heat’s one of the best types of furnaces, isn’t that what people say?”

Alan already felt very hot and he was sure Eric could see his emotions, for the reaper seemed to have gotten a little of his usual charismatic nature back, and his smile was making Alan melt.  Glancing back into Eric’s eyes he said “Why yes, I do believe people say that.  It may even be a scientific fact.  Let me change and I‘d be happy to make you a little less chilly.”

Then he darted out of the room and next door to his own bed, jumping on it and burying his face in the pillow.

“Get a grip on yourself!” he said, squeezing the pillow until his arms hurt. “Good grief, your heart is beating like mad!”

In his room, Eric fell back into the pillows, hands over his eyes.  “Dammit, man!” he said to himself, as his heart raced in his chest, “You’ve done more than just laid next to a guy plenty of times without a thought!  It’s not that unusual a thing!”

But he couldn’t help an almost silly grin from plastering itself on his face.  Running his fingers through his hair, he looked around.  His room wasn’t any neater than usual, the same clothes scattered the floor, a bottle here and there.  Glancing at the door, Eric hopped out of bed, staggered when his head disagreed with the abrupt action, and shoved the bottles and some of the clothes under the bed before climbing back in.

 _‘I’m caring about what my room looks like,’_ he laughed at himself.   _‘What the hell?’_

When Alan returned, Eric realized he’d never given much thought to as what the reaper wore to bed.  So why did he suddenly notice how adorable Alan looked in a nightshirt and pajama pants?

 _‘Get a hold of yourself,’_ he thought, _‘and you might actually do something right in your life.’_

“So, um,” Alan said, squeezing his pillow tightly, and Eric smiled at the cute blush that was spreading over the other’s reaper’s cheeks.  He grabbed his pillow and moved over to the right, leaving the left side of the bed empty.

“I really don’t want you to catch whatever I’ve got…” Eric said, feeling guilty about the selfish desire to have Alan near him.

“It’s fine.” Alan smiled at him as he arranged his pillow.  “I’m just as likely to get it just from living in the same house.”

“True,” Eric agreed, a little bit of relief washing away the guilt.  He lay back, resting his head on his arm as Alan pulled up the covers.  Instead of reaching for the light however, the reaper unexpectedly closed his eyes and clasped his hands in his lap, falling into a short minute of silence.

 _‘Religious?’_ Eric had never thought of Alan as the type, but he certainly looked to be doing a prayer of some sort at the moment.  When he finally opened his eyes and turned out the light, Eric asked.

“You pray?”

“I always have,” Alan replied, adjusting the sheets.

“Huh,” Eric said, folding his arms behind his head.

“You…” he heard Alan hesitate. “You aren’t religious in any way, are you?”

“No,” Eric said, “Not at all. I never really put much faith in a god.  No one was watching over me in my life.  I know that.”

“Praying was something my mother and father did,” Alan said softly. “I’m not sure if I think there’s anyone actually listening... But it can’t hurt, right?”

Eric reached out into the darkness and found Alan’s arm.  The reaper was still sitting up and Eric tugged at his sleeve until he settled down under the covers.  Eric inched closer to him and after a second of hesitation, Alan moved close to the tall reaper, resting his head on Eric’s arm.

“It makes me feel closer to them,” he said.  “Maybe my family is safely somewhere in some heaven I never got to go to…” His voice was very quiet now and Eric touched his hand comfortingly.

“They’re at peace wherever they might be,” he said, wanting what he said to be the words Alan needed to hear.

“I hope so,” Alan sighed, his breath tickling Eric’s neck.  The tall reaper closed his eyes, feeling Alan’s body to close to his, sensing his heartbeat, quicker than his own.  Kissing the top of his partner’s head, he breathed in, his nose filled with the scent of soap and the usual lingering smell of flowers.

“This is my heaven…” he whispered, and Alan tilted his head up a bit so Eric could imagine his green eyes gazing into his own.

“What?”

“I’m here with you, right?  What more could there possibly be?”

Alan laughed at his words, but it wasn’t a mocking or humorous laugh, it was a sound of surprise.  “I-.”

Eric cut him off with a kiss.  He was a bit off, what with the darkness, so their noses bumped before their lips met.

“I love you,” Alan said quietly when they drew apart and Eric put his arm around the smaller reaper, pulling him closer.

“Love you too,” he whispered back, trying to convey the sincerity of the words in his tone and touch.  Alan cuddled closer to him, comfortable in Eric’s presence, and the action made the tall reaper’s heart lift.  They both remained silent after that, and before long the tiring previous night and day caught up to them and they fell asleep.

I _IIIIII_ I October 18th

It was a good three days before Alan let Eric go back to work.  Thankfully, he hadn’t accepted any extra retrievals lately and had only his usual jobs, which Alan, Eccles, Sam, Thom and even Grell had volunteered to split between the five of them.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Eric insisted on the second day as they sat on the living room floor folding laundry.  “It takes a good long while for me to feel dizzy!”

“Standing and work are two very different things,” Alan said as he folded dishcloths.  “What would you do if you’re out on a retrieval and suddenly pass out?  First off, it would be dangerous, secondly, I would be wondering where you were, and third, imagine Will’s reaction when souls weren’t collected on time.”

“I’d rather not face that,” Eric agreed, fiddling with the shirt in his hands.  “I’m bored.”

“Look, laundry,” Alan replied, tossing a sock at him, “Entertainment for minutes!”

Eric looked up and found the reaper grinning.  Picking up the sock he threw it back and Alan deflected it with a t-shirt, then tossed both articles of clothing at Eric.

With a smirk, Eric scooped up a bunch of various cloths and Alan laughed. “Hey! Wai-!”

He held up his arms to block the barrage and Eric took that opportunity to tackle him.

“Oh!” Alan yelped, falling back into a pile of sheets.  He laughed, looking up at Eric, who pushed himself up, bracing his hands on either side of Alan’s shoulders.  “This is not doing laundry!”

“It’s better than laundry,” Eric grinned, and Alan giggled, then wrapped his arms around Eric’s neck, pulling him down.  Their lips touched and at once Eric knew this wasn’t like last night’s kiss, quick and sweet.  This was something else, longer, harder, and he was entranced by the passion in Alan.

 _‘Damn,’_ he thought, curving his arm under the other reaper’s back to pull their bodies closer together, ‘ _He’s really turning me on.’_

Nibbling on Alan’s lips, his tongue flicked against the reaper’s teeth and he felt him react to sensation.  Alan’s fingers were gripping his hair now and an intense heat suddenly spread from Eric’s chest throughout the rest of his body.  He wanted Alan, wanted him so badly it hurt, and his fingers moved to the reaper’s waist, pushing up his shirt so it untucked from the trousers.  Brushing Alan’s skin, he ran his hand from the small of the reaper’s back around to his ribcage and down to his stomach.

Alan’s eyes were closed now, holding Eric tightly, greedy for more kisses, and the tall reaper complied, taking over Alan’s mouth as the other did the same to him.  Lightheaded, he ran his fingers along the hem of Alan’s trousers, but the moment they dipped a millimeter behind the cloth, his partner flinched.

Alan’s body went from willing to defensive in a fraction of a second and Eric’s hand left him in a flash.  He moved back to sit on his heels, giving Alan room.

“Sorry,” he said.  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, I’m sorry for being silly about it,” Alan apologized, twisting the loose end of his shirt in his hand.

Eric studied him, embarrassed and flushing red, lying in a pile of messy laundry, and smiled at how cute he was.

“You’re not silly,” he said reassuringly, leaning down and giving the other reaper a quick kiss on the forehead.  He was still quite piqued from their interaction and afraid it was showing.  Gathering up the stacks of folded laundry, he stood.  “I’ll put these away, and then let’s go out.”

“For food?” Alan glanced out the balcony doors at the sky. “It’s not quite dinnertime.”

“On a date,” Eric replied, pausing in the doorway.  “We ought to go on one, right?”

“Oh, yes!” Alan agreed eagerly, sitting up.  “I mean, it does seem like something we should get around to doing, yes.”

“Fine,” Eric grinned.  “I know a place.  It has a bar, but it’s really nice, I promise.”

“Alright,” Alan said.  “We can finish this later.”  He stated tossing the unfolded laundry into the basket, then called, “Oh, wait, are you feeling alright?”

From the kitchen Eric called back, “I’m fine!  I need to get out of the house!  Please!”

“Okay, okay,” Alan replied, passing the room to go to his bedroom, “I’m your boyfriend, not your warden.”

Alan’s sassy comeback partnered with the fact he had openly acknowledged he was Eric’s boyfriend did nothing to calm the tall reaper down.  Heading back into the hall he said, “I’m going to take a quick shower and then we can leave.  Oh, and you might want to wear your tie.”

 _‘I need to chill,’_ he thought as he put away the rest of the laundry and went into the bathroom.  Shutting the door, he turned the shower on and undressed as the water heated up.  Stepping into the hot stream, he ran his fingers through his hair and let the droplets cascade over his face.

 _‘Take it slow and steady, man,’_ he instructed himself, shampooing his locks into a bubbly jumble on his head.   _‘Be the kind of guy he wants to keep going out with.  You’ve got this.’_


	45. Idea Change??? Alan's Past??? (Author's Note)

Hello, this isn't a new chapter, sorry.

Looking wayyyyy back to Chapter 20: Memories  ( Alan tells Eric about his past) I don't really like the human past I've given Alan.  I was thinking of changing it. Of course I'd notify you all if I did end up switching anything.

I was wondering if anyone had any of their own ideas for Alan's past? Such as where he lived, his family, his reason(s) for ultimately becoming a shinigami....  I'll be thinking about it for a bit, so as long as this chapter exists, please comment and tell me if you have any ideas.

Don't be hesitant to message me on Instagram as well- Username **nevareck_tophatcat** (the profile pic is the same one as here: a kitten in a top hat)

Thanks for reading!

~TopHatCat


	46. First Date

Dressed and almost ready to go, Alan combed his hair as he made for the kitchen to give the cats some food before leaving.  Passing the bathroom, he heard Eric singing from inside and paused in his walk.  Stepping closer, he pressed his ear against to the door, listening to the melodic sound of Eric’s voice through the wood.

 _‘He’s good,’_ Alan thought, running the comb through his hair as he listened, then laughed as he heard a sudden exclamation.  “I assume he’s dropped the soap,” he said to Potato, who was winding eagerly around his legs, begging him to feed her.  “I hope he didn’t forget to grab a fresh towel.  I took all the old ones and put them in the wash.”

With a giggle, he went to get the cats’ food.  “He’d have to run and grab one from the hall closet.  Wouldn’t that be a sight? I hardly dare imagine it…”

However, his brain did decide to conjure up the image and Alan almost dumped too much cat food into the felines’ bowls.  “Goodness!” he started, tipping the bag back up and putting it away.  “That could have been a mess!”

After he put on his light brown coat, he sat at the table to wait.  He wondered if he was a mess.  He’d never seriously thought about being in love and right now he was in a relationship.  A real relationship with an amazing man and they held hands and kissed and…

Eric had wanted to touch him earlier.  He had felt all of the built-up passion in the tall reaper’s body as he leaned over him, caressed him under his shirt.  The desire had been more than obvious in Eric’s kiss and the way he’d held him.  But Alan hadn’t let it happen.

 _‘Why did I stop him?’_ he wondered, staring at the wall opposite.   _‘Doing something like…_ that, _is something special, right?  It would have made him happy.’_

Potato pushed on her bowl, tapping it against the cabinet as she tried to lick the last bits of food from the bottom.  Blossom calmly ate the last of his food before joining Potato at her bowl to see if she had any left.  Alan drummed his fingers on the counter in a quiet rhythmic pattern that mimicked the song Eric had sung in the shower.

 _‘The real question I should be asking myself,’_ Alan corrected his brain, _‘Is would it have made me happy?’_

He was troubled to find he didn’t know the answer.  Yes, they hadn’t been officially together long at all, but Alan knew they had had something since before the night of their first kiss.

 _‘So when is the right time to take it to the next level?’_ he asked silently, watching Potato trot out of the kitchen as Blossom double-checked the bowls for kibble.   _‘Eric’s ready anytime, but how do I know when and if I am?’_

“You ready?”

Alan glanced up as Eric entered the room, adjusting the collar of his long dark gray coat.  The tall reaper’s hair was damp and drooped a bit, but somehow he still managed to look quite fine.  Catching himself staring, Alan nodded, flashing a smile to cover his daydreaming.

“I’m ready,” he said, and Eric held out his hand.

“Come on then! It’s such a nice day we can drive with the windows down and mess our hair right back up again!”

Alan laughed at that and took the offered hand, letting Eric lead him out the door and to the street.  The reaper was right, it was a beautiful day, warm with a nice breeze despite the fact that it was October.  The tree in the yard had turned colors and the other trees along the street were changing as well, shifting from green to orange, yellow, gold and brown.

Getting into the car, they were soon driving through the city and down the Pathway.  “Where are you going?” Alan asked as Eric skipped past the parking lot and continued into the mist.

“This place is near the edge of London,” Eric said.  “We can take the car farther.”

Not long ago, they had gone to a different spot, in the countryside, and Eric had driven right up to the back of the place.  Alan had voiced his concern on the humans noticing such an odd contraption as the orange sports car, but Eric calmed his fears.

“They can’t see it.  Just like they can’t see us, unless they bump into us or we allow it,” he explained. “Which is why reapers with cars don’t drive in crowded areas, like the middle of London.”

Now they took a winding road through the countryside, passing farms and forests and fields.  Everything was beautiful this time of year and Eric rolled down the windows so the fresh air filled the car.

Looking out his side, Alan could see London in the distance, a hazy outline against the sky.  Soon enough they rolled to a stop behind a rather large building, with two floors and what looked like a rooftop terrace.  A patio with tables circled the base.  It looked a little out of place in the countryside, and Alan could tell at once it was a high-class establishment.

“You should have said it was so nice,” he said, opening his door and stepping out.  “I would have tried to get more of the cat hair off my coat.”

“You look fine,” Eric assured him.  The tall reaper came around to Alan’s side and offered his arm to his partner.  “In fact, you look wonderful, stray cat hairs and all.”

“Why thank you,” Alan smiled, taking Eric’s arm, “It’s a new style.”

“Love it,” Eric replied with a wink as they walked toward the restaurant.  As they approached the entryway, a man opened the door for them, nodding as they passed.  Inside, the ceiling was high above their heads, the ground to the front desk covered in a soft carpet.  Statues of some sort of mythical creature with wings guarded each side of the desk.

“How can I help you, sir?” the maître d behind the counter asked as Eric stepped up.

“Yes, I have a five-thirty reservation here for Slingby,” he said and the man opened a book filled with names and times.  As he looked, Alan touched Eric’s arm.

“A reservation? You didn’t tell me!”

“It was a surprise,” Eric grinned.  “This place doesn’t do walk-ins.”

A smile grew on Alan’s face as Eric turned back to confirm the reservation and he put his hand to his mouth.  The décor, the status of this place, it was beyond any restaurant Eric had taken him to before.

 _‘I can’t believe he did this,’_ the reaper thought, _‘It’s such a nice place and he decided to bring_ me _here.’_

“This way, sirs,” a waitress said, gesturing for them to follow her up a flight of stairs.  She brought them all the way up to the roof, where small metal tables were dotted between potted plants.  The roof was mostly empty and the greenery created a secluded feel, so it was almost as if they were alone as they sat at a table near the rail.  London was in the distance over farmland and trees; an exquisite sight.

“I’ll have an ale,” Eric requested, and Alan turned to the waitress.

“A martini, please,” he asked.  As the woman walked away, Eric looked to Alan with a surprised smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Alcohol?  You?”

“It’s a special occasion,” Alan smiled, placing his hand over Eric’s.  “I can’t believe you got reservations for this place.  It’s amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Eric countered, leaning forward.  They kissed briefly before settling back to enjoy the view and each other’s company.

The two had finished their dinner and just began on dessert, Eric with chocolate caramel cake and Alan with a parfait, when a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovey-doveiest couple in the Dispatch!”

Both reapers looked up to find Grell winding her way through the plants toward them, a drink in her hand.  Eric made a face and opened his mouth, but Alan quickly shushed him.  He smiled at Grell as she reached them.

“Hello, Grell,” he said, “Funny that you’re here at the same time we are!”

“Isn’t it just?” Grell said.  She pulled out a chair from a nearby table, sitting down at their table, and Eric rolled his eyes at her intrusive action. “I’m even on a date with a handsome fellow,” Grell remarked, “just like you are.”

Alan moved his gaze over her shoulder as Will came around a plant.  He had a frown on his face.

“Get up, Grell,” he said, “They didn’t ask for your company.”

Alan glanced at Eric, who quirked his mouth before agreeing with his partner.  “Whatever, Will,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. “We don’t mind if you sit with us, if you don’t.”

“If we are not intruding,” Will replied, shaking the offered hand and taking the seat Eric had vacated. The tall reaper grabbed a chair and sat to the left of Alan.

“So,” Grell said, “Out on a romantic date!”  She took a sip of her drink, which was a red as her hair and had a swizzle stick of strawberries in it.  “Your first?”

“Could you be any more forward?” Eric asked, crossing his legs.  “But yeah, first romantic date.”

Alan blushed. “I didn’t even know. He surprised me with reservations.”

“Remember our first date, Will?” Grell sighed.  She smirked, lowering her lashes at her partner.  “We didn’t go out anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t call that a romantic date,” Will said, taking a drink of his wine.  “We’ve been on too many dates to remember them all.”

“You’ve been together a long time, haven’t you?” Alan asked.  “I know a lot of people at work say you have been a couple for years.”

“A very long time,” Will confirmed.

“In fact, we’re rare in the fact that we were together when we were human and then continued to be a couple as reapers,” Grell put in.  She placed her hand on Will’s knee and sent him a warm look.  “I suppose we’re soul mates or something.”

Will smiled back at her, putting his hand over hers.  Alan was surprised by such a deeply caring show affection from the both of them and it made his heart feel good.

The four continued to chat as the night wore on, sitting there long enough to have a significant number of drinks, which of course got Eric and Grell’s mouths working overtime.

“It’s such a bother that reapers can’t have children!” Grell moaned, stirring her newest beverage.  “I want a few daughters, maybe a son to make Will happy!”

“Oh dear, don’t go off on this again,” Will sighed, taking a spoonful of mousse.  “You’ve only ranted on about this a hundred thousand times!”

Eric crossed his arms. “You can’t even have kids anyway,” he said, “You’d have to adopt.”

Grell let out a long loud sigh.  “Oh, the tragedy!  Imagine if I could have children with Will!  The beauties they would be!”

“Yeah, beauties,” Eric snorted, “Beautiful stone-faced psychopaths, that’s what they’d be!” He put his arm around Alan’s shoulders. “Dear lord, help us all if Grell is ever able to bear children!”

“Quiet, Slingby!” Grell pouted, flipping her swizzle stick at Eric.  She missed and the drops hit Alan instead.  “Sorry, Al! You don’t deserve that like your mean boyfriend does!”

Alan laughed.  He’d only had two drinks before switching to water, but he was still feeling tipsy. “Don’t worry, Grell, I’ll take care of it.”  He dipped his fingers in his glass and flicked the droplets at Eric, who shook his head when they hit his nose.

“So you’re on her side now?”  He placed a hand over his heart. “Betrayed by love!”

“Will would never turn on me!” Grell said, grasping the management reaper’s arm.

“It’s getting late,” Will noted, signaling his desire to leave.  “We have work tomorrow.”

“You and your work,” Grell said, but she stood, allowing Will to help her slip on the fur she had brought.  “Well, I suppose we’ll see you two in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” Alan said as Eric and Will shook hands over the table.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Drive safe,” Eric warned, and Will nodded.

“I will be the one behind the wheel, so worry not.”

“Goodnight!” Grell called as they walked away, arm in arm.  When they were gone, Alan sat back in his chair with a tired sigh.  He was sleepy all at once, and looking up the twinkling stars in the sky made him drowsy.

“We should head out too,” Eric said, standing and shrugging into his coat.  Alan had put his on a while before, the chilliness of the evening forcing him to wear the extra layer.  The reaper stood, prepared to go, but abruptly felt lightheaded and staggered a step.

Eric reached out, steadying him, and Alan leaned against his chest.  “I’m really dizzy all of a sudden,” he said, blinking to try and clear his head.

Eric chuckled. “Only a bit to drink and you’re reeling.  Come on, you can lean on me.”

Alan did so gladly, using Eric as a support until they got to the car.  The drive home was quiet and sleepy and Alan almost nodded off, waking from a half-sleep as Eric parked in front of the house.

“Now I’m feeling more awake,” Alan noted as they entered the flat. “How ridiculous is that?”  Going into the kitchen he checked the clock. “It’s ten ‘o’ clock.”

Eric dropped the car keys on the island and went to the sink, grabbing a glass from the drying rack and filling it.  “How about we watch a movie?” he suggested.  He took a long drink of water and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before heading toward the hall.  Alan followed him as he went toward the front door.

“I didn’t know we had a tv,” he said as Blossom and Potato trailed after them out of the flat.  “Is this new?”

“Nah,” Eric replied, going down the steps to the entryway.  Near the door was the closet Alan sometimes kept gardening things in. “It was a sort of community tv,” Eric explained, opening the closet door and checking labels of boxes inside.  “It was Hayze’s.  He got rid of it when he bought a new one and said I could do whatever I wanted with it.  I used to loan it to people but now most folks have their own.  Aha.”  Finding the carton he was searching for, he shoved a pile of ratty shoes off the top and dragged it out.  Opening the flaps, he lifted out a boxy brown television with a few knobs and a pair of broken bunny ears folded on the top.

“I’m not sure those will work,” Alan said, raising an eyebrow at the antennas.  The metal was bent and the wires were poking through.

“We just need it to reach the antenna on the roof.”  Kicking the box back into the closet, Eric lugged the television back up the steps and Alan slipped by to open the door for him.  Gathering up the cats, he called, “Where are you putting it?” as Eric moved down the hallway.

“Bedroom!” the tall reaper yelled back.  Alan heard him kick the door open and there was a thump and a swear as he set the appliance down.  Closing the front door behind him, Alan carried the cats to the bedroom, Potato gripping his shirt with her claws while Blossom simply hung droopily, resigned to his fate.  Upon entering the room, Eric already had the television on the set of drawers against the wall that faced the end of the bed.

“I’m going to get changed,” Alan said and Eric nodded, fiddling with the knobs.  The screen turned gray and staticy and the tall reaper frowned, raising an annoyed eyebrow.  Smiling at his partner’s confusion, Alan dropped the cats on the bed and left to get his pajamas on.

When he returned, Eric was in his boxers and a t-shirt, smacking the side of the television. “I had a picture,” he said in defense. “It was working!”

“Let me try,” Alan said, though he had never owned a tv nor used one. The closest he’d ever been to one was when Thom would watch sports shows in their dorm room.

Going to the appliance, he turned the knob, but got nothing but static.  His mouth quirked a bit and he tried again.  Eric sighed and sat down on the end of the bed, arms crossed.  Narrowing his eyes, Alan tried the knob again, then reached up and tweaked one of the bunny ears a fraction to the right.  At once the screen cleared and an image of a woman crying appeared.  Eric started at the sound and got to his feet.

“How’d you do that?” he asked and Alan shrugged.

“I just moved the antenna a bit?”

Eric chuckled and hugged him from behind, kissing the top of his head. “You’re magical.”

Alan blushed and squeezed Eric’s hands. “So, what are we watching?”

“I don’t have a tv guide so we’ll have to go through the channels until we see something good.”  Releasing the smaller reaper, Eric took hold of the channel knob.  “Get on into bed and tell me when to stop.”

Alan climbed under the covers and watched as Eric flicked through the stations.  There wasn’t much of anything on, nothing good at least, and they’d been going for a while when he said, “Wait! Go back quick.”

Turning the channel back one, Eric looked at the screen.  It was the beginning of a movie of some sort.  A young lady was standing on a spit of land beside a lighthouse and a ship was coming in to harbor in the distance.  Leaning on the dresser, Eric said, “It looks like a cheesy love story.”

“We’re going to fall asleep to it anyway,” Alan reminded him and Eric smiled.

“You’re right.”  He got into bed beside the other reaper.  “This was a good choice.”

They settled into the covers and propped up pillows as the movie started.  Potato kneaded a spot on Eric’s stomach before lying down, her eyes trained on the television.  Blossom sprawled out over Alan’s legs and promptly fell asleep.

Eric curved his arm around Alan and the smaller reaper leaned his head on his partner’s shoulder.  Although they had been prepared to nod off at once, they sat through the entire movie, laughing at an old pirate’s antics, tearing up at the right parts, and snuggling closer at the dramatic bits.  When the main couple kissed at the end, Eric turned his head, running his fingers along Alan’s jaw.  The other reaper willingly tipped his chin up, meeting Eric’s lips with his own.

“Guess that wasn’t so bad a movie after all,” he said sleepily after they pulled apart.

“I rather liked it,” agreed Eric.  “I guess cheesy love stories aren’t all that bad.”

“You loved it,” Alan said, and Eric grinned.

“Not as much as I love you,” he replied in a teasing, growly sort of way that made Alan’s heart skip.  Resting against Eric, he kissed his partner’s cheek and smiled.  Eric leaned his head on Alan’s and closed his eyes.

They were asleep before the credits ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify- Televisions are canon in Yana's Kuroshitsuji world. In fact, Prince Soma is very fascinated by such an interesting contraption in one of the mangas. :D :D


	47. Back to Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short. I'm not quite ready to post a full chapter so the next one will come along very soon and will also be short. I just wanted to post something today. It's kind of special... Two years ago this day, I watched The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World for the first time. I knew our boys were special from the very first moment ♥ So have some Alan and Eric and Unmei on this day :) Thank you for reading.

12:00. Lunch.

Time to eat and Eric was feeling extremely awkward.  Back to work for the first time since his...breakdown, he’d resisted staying home any longer despite the headache that still crept up on him from time to time.  Alan had brought all his papers up from Level Three and done his work in Eric’s office.

 _‘To be perfectly honest,’_ Eric thought, _‘we didn’t get much work done…’_

The two reapers had spent most of the morning talking and playing catch with a wadded-up piece of paper. Neither was really up to the task of filing, even though they knew they’d regret it when Will asked for their reports later.

When lunchtime came around they tossed aside their work and headed for the lunchroom one floor down.  Technically, this room was for level one and two reapers only, but when someone had dared suggest that Alan shouldn’t eat there, Eric had quickly convinced them otherwise with a few words and threatening taps of his scythe.  Most everyone didn’t care, and many enjoyed the younger reaper’s company when Eric and Alan joined a larger table instead of sitting off by themselves.

Today Eric had gotten his lunch from the fridge as usual, cold lasagna, and started looking for a table.  They were all full.  Alan had gone off to heat up his own food so Eric was left to find a seat and suddenly he was extremely uncomfortable.

Before, it had been no problem to sit down with his friends. They’d make room for him, and Alan, in a heartbeat.  Grell, Drake, Joy, Shelia.  Shelia… Eric wondered if she was avoiding him or he was avoiding her.  They hadn’t talk since the breakup.

Under no circumstances did Eric regret leaving her for Alan. That feeling was foreign to him.  But he’d heard from someone else Shelia had been extremely broken hearted and he felt a crushing weight of guilt for any pain he may have caused her.

Stopping in the middle of the room, his mouth quirked into a frown. He supposed they could go down to the lower level. They sometime ate lunch with Sam and Thom there.  He had just decided that heading out of here would be the best course of action when Alan appeared at his shoulder.

“Did you find a spot?”

“Well-,” Eric began, when a voice called out,

“Eric!  Alan!  Sit here!”

Both reapers turned and Eric saw Grell smiling from a table directly behind him.  Seated with her were Drake, Joy and Shelia.  Drake was frowning at him.  Joy started insisting he sit down and Grell was already trying to shuffle chairs.  Eric looked at Shelia.  She didn’t meet his eyes, staring down at her macaroni and cheese.

Eric didn’t really know what to do.  He hovered awkwardly and Alan glanced at him, patiently waiting for him to make a decision.  Before he could come to any sort of conclusion, however, a macaroni noodle bounced off his forehead.

“Are you going to sit down or not, you dork?” Shelia asked.  “There’s plenty of room for you and Alan.”

Immense relief filled Eric and he and Alan accepted the seats Grell and Joy had pulled out for them.  Eric found himself shoulder to shoulder with Shelia and now their eyes did meet.  She smiled.

Drake, on the other hand, cast a judgmental look at Alan and gathered his plate before walking off. Joy frowned after him. “Whatever,” she said, then looked to the others again. “Good to have you back, you two.  It’s been lonely.”

“It’s been three days,” Eric replied.  “You have some serious issues if you missed me that much.”

“We just missed Alan,” Grell smirked and Eric stuck out his tongue at her.

“Thanks, _friend_.”

Alan laughed.  “Well! At least I’m appreciated here!”

Eric nudged him hard in the shoulder, grinning, as Grell nosily asked what they’d been doing at home the past three days.  While Alan skimmed over the details, simply stating that Eric had been overworked and feeling unwell, the tall reaper turned to Shelia.

“Hi,” he said, twirling his fork between his fingers.  “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” she replied with a smile. “You?”

“Going,” he answered and she glanced at Alan before her eyes went back to him.

“Good.”  She gathered up her thick wavy hair into a ponytail, though the action seemed less of a necessity and more of an act to fill the space between them.  She seemed more unsure of his thoughts than her own.  Eric tapped his utensil against the table for a second and then reached over and poked her mac n cheese, spearing a few noodles.  Shelia laughed as he stuck them in his mouth.

“Alan! Eric’s stealing my stuff!”

Alan looked around and Eric shrugged, grinning. “What?”

“Eric, Eric, Eric,” Alan chided jokingly. “Stop taking other people’s food!”

“We have a criminal in our midst!” Grell gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Mercy me and what the hell do we do?”

“Guess we’ll have to fine him,” Shelia smirked, pilfering a forkful of Eric’s lasagna.  Joy snickered and did the same as Eric protested loudly.

“I didn’t take your food, Joy!”

“Interest!” the reaper answered and Shelia laughed.

“Is he this impossible all the time, Al?” she asked and the other reaper smiled.

“Only sometimes,” he said.  “He’s got something naughty in his blood.”

Grell and Joy ‘oohed’ at the same time and Alan blushed, realizing the context in which his words could be taken.  Shelia leapt into the exchange of teases and denial, and Eric leaned back in his chair.

 _‘That went a lot better than I thought it would_ ,’ he admitted to himself.  Shelia was as peppy and perky as ever, and she had smiled at him as a friend, not an ex-girlfriend.  Her tone was warm and sweet like always and not just toward him, but to Alan as well.  He watched, pleased, as the two reapers took a side against Grell and Joy in some sort of verbal war.  Eric didn’t even know what they were talking about anymore. He didn’t care. They were happy.  He was happy.  Shoveling some lasagna into his mouth he sighed inwardly and felt his heart swell a little more with contentment.

 _‘Dammit,’_ he grinned, _‘I love these people.’_

“What are you smiling at?” Joy said, “You don’t think cabbage stew is actually good, do you?”

“It’s disgusting, he’s got to agree with us!” Grell stated proudly and Eric chuckled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “Absolutely no idea.”

“So he’s on our side,” Shelia retorted triumphantly, and Eric sat forward, putting one arm around her and the other around Alan.

“Sure,” he said, “I’m on your side.  Now, what are discussing?”

When Eric smiled at him and Shelia, Alan’s heart lifted.  Everything was fine, everyone was good.  Maybe now he could get to know Shelia, be a friend to her as Eric and Grell and Joy were.  Returning his boyfriend’s grin, Alan was delighted to see Eric’s green eyes were twinkling brightly.

“Cabbages,” he replied, laughing slightly. “We’re talking about cabbages.”

 


	48. What Hurts the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As I said on the last post, this is a super short chapter. Next one will be longer, I promise :) Enjoy and thanks for reading!

It was back, and it hurt like hell.

This feeling hadn’t attacked so strongly in a while, but the lurking weight of it had been slowly growing until he couldn’t take it anymore and cracked.

Snow was falling very gently and light gray clouds covered the sky.  There hadn’t been a full out snowstorm yet this year, but the flurries were getting stronger and more frequent.  Alan didn’t pay any mind to the flakes melting against the window above his head as he sat on the floor against the white wall.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor was saying to the couple outside the curtain.  There came the sound of sobbing and Alan clamped his mouth shut so his own crying wouldn’t alert the humans to his presence.

It had been a few weeks since he’d physically collapsed on a retrieval.  Group collections were easier; he’d rely on Eric’s strength, or Will’s all-business manner, or Thom’s gentle release of a soul, his touch so tender the job almost seemed magical.

But alone…

Alan moved his arms away from his chest, looking down at his hands and soul that shone gently in his grasp.  The record was so short, flickering and moving weakly as he held it, showing the life of a small child who didn’t have the chance to grow up.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly and the soul reacted, frantic, questioning, and Alan bit his lip.  The child didn’t deserve this, nor did her parents; but the only thing the reaper could do was provide as much comfort as he could to the dead.

“Hush, little one,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady and light.  “It’s going to be alright.  You’re going to okay.”  Gripping his scythe, he used it to push himself to his feet, and leaned against the windowsill.  “It’s a beautiful day out, all white and quiet…”

Cradling the raw, pure soul so close to himself hurt, the energy of life so hot it burned.  His clothes were unsinged but he could feel it scalding somewhere deeper.  Alan ignored the pain, wanting to embrace the soul as long as he could before it had to be let go, alone.

Finally, he sighed and stepped back.  The soul glowed in front of him and he held his scythe tightly for a moment before moving it in one fluid stroke, piercing the light and dismissing the life.  When the illumination had faded, Alan swayed on his feet, suddenly light-headed, and only caught himself by using his scythe as a support.  Another person gone from this world… Just another stamp in the book.

He pulled on his gloves, wincing as the leather rubbed the skin.  His palms felt raw and sore, but he didn’t let it bother him.  He couldn’t, not without feeling guilty.

Retreating, he left the room, escaped the hospital he’d entered only a short while ago.  The snow was falling heavily now and few people were out and about.  A bench was lonely outside a shop and Alan dropped to its snowy seat.  Letting his scythe fall to the ground, he gripped his hair, staring down at the trampled snow between his shoes.

 _‘We can’t live forever, we can’t live forever,’_ he repeated over and over in his head. _‘We can’t live forever but we can make the most of what time we have.’_

Eric had said that to him one night.  They had been sitting in the living room when Alan had inexplicably burst into tears.  Eric had jumped up from his chair at once, crossing to the couch and settling beside his partner.

“What’s the matter?” he’d asked, and Alan had shaken his head.  It was nothing Eric had done, nor was it any particular moment that had brought this on.

“I’m just really sad,” he’d confessed, trying to stem the flow of tears. “It’s too sad.”

“I know, I know,” Eric had comforted, understanding where this was coming from.  A reaper’s job was a curse and Alan hated it.  “It’s not easy and… I know you already know this but, it’s a necessity.”

“I know,” Alan had whispered.  “But I don’t like it…”

As they went to bed, Alan still red-eyed from crying, Eric had said softly, “We can’t live forever, but we can make the most of what time we have.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Alan replied, and Eric had lovingly kissed the top of his head.

“Ditto, my little flower.”

Now Alan sat, head in his hands, motionless in the afternoon storm.  When he finally did move, a small dusting of snow had accumulated on his shoulders and back.  Running his hands through his hair, the reaper let out a shaky breath and tried to rub away the tears frozen to his cheeks but failed, his fingers too rigid with cold to do much of anything.  Rising stiffly to his feet, he picked up his scythe and satchel and stood for a second, head bowed.

It was icy and wet but also quiet, very peaceful.  The snowflakes fell softly, with no winds to hurry them along or rush their decent to earth.  He felt like he could have remained there for a long while, content in the cold beauty of it… but it was lonely, far too lonely.

Not a soul was around and the sensation of emptiness grew to a disturbing level in his chest, pricking his skin and compelling him to move his feet.  Taking short steps, his breath creating small clouds in the air, he continued down the white street to the path that would take him home.

I _IIIIII_ I

Eric was loud as usual, coming home.  First the rumble of the car engine as he pulled up to the house, then his footfalls on the steps and of course the rattle and clatter of entering the flat and dropping his things in various places in the hall and kitchen.  He would greet the cats too, sending cheery hellos to the felines and asking about their day.  At the moment, he was singing a Christmas carol.

Wrapped in a blanket on the bed, Alan thought about getting up. It wouldn’t do Eric any good to find him in this miserable state, but his body felt too heavy to move.  His mind was too weighed down to instruct his limbs to work as they should.  All he could do was huddle in a ball on the mattress and listen dully as Eric moved about the flat.  He wondered if he would come into the bedroom anytime soon.

The cats entered the room first, Potato hopping up onto the bed before Eric was even at the door.

“Gosh darn, it’s dark,” Eric mentioned to no one, flipping on the light.  He was halfway to the bathroom before he noticed the bundle of covers that was Alan. “Oh hey, didn’t know you were home.  …You okay?”

Alan nodded, which prompted Eric to cross to the bed and crouch beside it.  His gaze was level with Alan’s now and they searched the other reaper’s dark green eyes, the only part of him visible under the blankets.  Eric’s hand wormed under the cloth, finding Alan’s fingers. “What’s up?”

“They know they’re dying,” Alan replied, his voice muffled.  “It’s not as quick as they think it will be.  That moment when their life is ended, they know and they’re so scared and in pain.”

Straightening, Eric ignored his original course to the bathroom and instead got onto the bed, lying down beside Alan and hugging him, blankets and all, from behind.  “Do you feel the pain too?” he asked.

Alan sighed and shook his head, wriggling his cocoon closer to Eric.  “No,” he answered, “I don’t…”

_‘I wish to heaven I could!  Just a little… I want to comfort them, let the terrified souls know someone is there in those final moments.’_

“They don’t deserve to be alone,” was all he said, and he knew he was including himself in his statement.

“No one deserves that,” said Eric and Alan pushed back the covers, turning to face his partner.  The solitude he’d experienced in the city was still tarnishing his skin and even Eric’s touch suddenly seemed cold and distant.  His heartbeat picking up, he shoved and kicked away the blankets, the comfort of them becoming stifling all at once.  Sitting on the sheets, he held onto Eric’s hands, trying to garner warmth from them.  He was sure his gaze was agitated, his eyes flicking from Eric’s eyes to his hands to his mouth, and the tall reaper could see it, for he sat up and squeezed Alan’s fingers.

“Al, it’s okay.”

The burn of the soul he’d held earlier was still in his chest, but now it was more of a small pinpoint of heat, rather than a hot glow.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, right?”

The second he voiced the question, he felt awful.  How could he ever suspect Eric of such an action?  What sort of person was he to distrust this man who meant so much to him?  “Damn,” he whispered, looking down. “I…”

Eric didn’t seem upset at all.

“Course not,” he replied. “You’re the world to me.  I’m here for anything you go through.”

Alan let out a soft laugh and the room seemed to become warmer.  He released Eric’s hands only to pull the tall reaper into a hug and kiss his cheek.  “Thank you,” he said into the other’s neck, resting his head on Eric’s shoulder.  Eric embraced him tightly, tilting his head to kiss the reaper.

“This thing we’ve got means we’re never alone.  We’re in it together.”

Alan smiled at that, any anxiety fading slowly as he relaxed. 

When he got up the next morning, all residue pain from the young soul was gone and he was guilty at the ease of which the memory of the hurt vanished.

He promised himself he wouldn’t forget what the scorch of life felt like, or allow any more souls he collected to be alone at the end ever again.


	49. Christmas Decorations

Snow fell in soft fat flakes as Eric whistled his way to the front door of the house.  Christmas carols were being sung everywhere in London and it was hard for anyone not to get at least one of the tunes stuck in their head.  The city was decked out for the holiday and it was only a week and a day away from Christmas.  Joy and cheer were thick in the air and it seeped into Eric’s bones.  He began singing the lyrics to the melody loudly as he reached the second floor flat, hoping to annoy Alan with his rowdy singing and maybe draw some laughs from the other reaper.

Caroling into the kitchen, he was stopped in his tracks by a slew of boxes covering the floor. On the counter, a radio played holiday tunes and powdered sugar dusted the island.

“Way ahead of you,” Alan said from where he was seated on the floor, discarding fragments of broken ornaments from a box into the trash.  Thom was at the island, covered in flour as he rolled out dough, and Sam was at the table untangling Christmas lights with a frustrated look on her face.  The entire flat was warm with heat from the oven and smelled like baking heaven.

“Hi, Eric!” Sam said, “Come over here!”

“What’s all this?” the tall reaper asked as Sam shoved the lights into his hands and quickly evacuated that corner of the room.

“Christmas party,” Alan replied, sifting through ornaments and decorations.  Sam kneeled to help him and found a tiny red hat in a box.  Blossom was lounging in tissue paper nearby and the reaper placed the cap on his head. It fit rather well and the feline didn’t shake it off, resigned to his holiday fate.

“A party? Where?” Eric asked, taking on Sam’s abandoned project of untangling the lights.  “Here?”

“Yup,” Alan answered.  “All this stuff was behind the washer and dryer.  I found it while I was organizing things back there.”

“I haven’t had Christmas in a while,” Eric mused. “Never had any celebrations as a kid.”

Thom stopped in his task of cutting out cookies to wipe his brow.  He left a smear of flour on his face in doing so, but didn’t seem to notice.  “Sammy and I grew up on huge Christmas parties. My parents originally practiced Hinduism but when they moved to England they converted to Christianity because Father thought it was more proper to believe such things in this country.”

“They were enormous parties,” Sam said, finding a glass reindeer and setting it gently on the counter.  “Father and Mother throw these really fancy parties for people they work with.”

“Were they fun?” Eric ventured to ask.  By the siblings’ manner, he guessed it was more a celebration for the parents than a warm bonding of family.

Sam shrugged. “We got presents, but that’s about all we did.”

“A lot of bankers care more about work than family,” Thom noted in a short tone and Alan quickly changed the subject.

“Thom, could you check and see if the cookies in the oven are burning?”

The chill the Danys’ past had brought upon the room was quickly dissipated by the reintroduction of the present.  Thom took out the cookies and put in a new batch, Sam and Alan began going around the house setting trinkets and candles and pinecones about the place, even in the bathroom.  Eric munched on a slightly blackened batch of cookies as he wrestled with the strings of lights.  After a while he finally got every cord unwound.

“Thom, help a guy put some of these up outside?” he asked, and the other reaper nodded, quickly exchanging his apron for a winter coat and following Eric out into the cold.  Eric uprooted a ladder from the side of the house and got up on it to string lights up on the edge of the lower roof that the kitchen looked out onto, and on the small peak over the door.  Thom draped colorful bulbs in the bushes under the lower level windows.  A string only went out once, and they spent ten minutes fiddling with each little bulb until Thom twisted one just right and the whole thing came back on.

“Toss one up!”

The two looked up from the yard to see Alan and Sam had come out on the balcony to lean on the rail and watch them work.  Eric heaved a bundle into the air and the two reapers on the second floor busily wrapped it on the rail, illuminating the balcony in red, green, blue and yellow light.

“We’ve still got some left,” Eric said as they reentered the kitchen after decorating the gate and fence.  Blowing on their frozen fingers, they both stole several cookies before Alan stopped them with a swat.  “Where do you want them?”

“We’ll need them for the tree,” Alan replied, packing the cookies into tins as Sam carried empty boxes back to the closet.  Eric observed the ones she had left and saw they were tree ornaments.

“I guess that means a little excursion to town,” he said. “Let’s go right now.”

“Now?” Thom questioned, peering out the window. “It’s nearly dark.”

“Best time to tree hunt,” Eric said, though he had no prior experience to base his statement off of.  It just seemed right.  “There’s a seller in town; I saw him today.  He has some good-looking trees.”

“I’m up for it,” Sam said, and Thom nodded.

“Sure.”

Alan put the last cover in the final tin and put it in the cabinet with the others. “Let me feed the cats and we can go!”

A few minutes later they were making tire tracks in the snow of the Pathway.  The snow was drifting gently and the short walk from the car into London was pleasant.  The glow of Christmas was enveloping the city, with gentle lights accenting every building, goodies and gifts placed in storefront windows, and fresh snow on the walkways. Carols played, soft and crackly over street speakers, and the faint toll of distant church bell rang low and deep in the air.

“Wow!” Sam said, her breath creating a puff of moisture in the cold air.  “It’s magical!”

“Where did you see the trees for sale?” Thom asked, and Eric pointed the way.

“Follow me!”

Soon enough the group reached a lot where a man had set up a whole forest of pine trees. Tall, short, fat thin, the diversity was seemingly endless.

“Evening, folks!” the seller said as they approached.  He was big and bearded, and looked like he had cut down all of the trees himself.  “Looking for a tree?”

“We sure are,” Eric replied.  “What have you got?”

“Anything you want!” The man chuckled. “I mean that almost literally; I’ve got all sort of trees.”

“We’ll look around,” Alan said with a smile; Sam and Thom were already vanishing deeper into the maze of pines.  He and Eric set off after their friends, moving into the prickly mass.

“It’s like a forest, but in the middle of London,” Eric noted.  “Bizarre.”

“It smells wonderful,” Alan said, taking a deep breath. Eric did the same and had to agree.  The scent of pine sap was sharp and abundant in the air.

“Smells like Christmas.”

“Looks like Christmas too,” Alan said, turning his gaze upwards.  Eric followed his example and they watched the snow fall down from the deep black sky.

 “It’s beautiful,” Eric agreed, wrapping his arms around Alan from behind.  The other reaper took his partner’s hands, leaning his head against Eric’s chest.  They were secluded in their own little area of pines and the trees gave the illusion of complete solitude, as if they were separated from the rest of London entirely.

“If I could grow flowers in winter, this would be one of my favorite times of year,” Alan said with a sigh.  “But it’s too cold.”

“I’ve got my flower all year ‘round,” Eric said, kissing the reaper’s cheek and Alan twisted to smile up at him.

“Flirt.”

“Smooth-talk is all I’ve got going for me,” Eric chuckled, and Alan smirked.

“Well, it’s working,” he said and turned in Eric’s grasp, tugging on the tall reaper’s scarf. “And I wouldn’t say it’s _all_ you’ve got going for you…”

“Yeah,” Eric mused, “I’m a pretty good kisser, too.”

Alan took the invitation without delay.

A few seconds later, Sam coughed loudly from behind them and said, “So… I think we found a good tree.”

Alan and Eric broke apart to look over at the girl and her brother, who stood some feet away.  “Alright,” the smaller reaper replied, cheeks red from more than the cold. “Let’s take a look.”

When they reached the tree, they both agreed immediately that it was perfect.  Filled out with plenty of needles, it had full branches on all sides and was just the right height for the living room.

“Great,” Eric said. “Top-notch tree choosing!”

“Try saying that ten times fast,” Alan said as Eric wrapped his arms around the tree and heaved it out of the stand.  Thom grabbed hold of the top and Eric took the bottom, and they headed back to the seller’s little shack.

“Good choice,” the man noted when they dropped the tree and Eric patted his pockets to find his wallet.  “Who decided on this one?”

“Me!” Sam said, waving her hand.  The seller chuckled.  “You’ve got an eye for trees, young lady.”

They also bought a tree stand and after that was in the trunk it took a while to tie the pine to the top of the car.  After that came a scare when halfway down the pathway there was a scraping sound and Thom yelled out that they had lost the tree.  After that accident however, they made it back safe and sound, tree intact.

The second challenge was actually getting it into the living room, and the stairs to the second level flat proved a harder obstacle than originally supposed.  The event consisted mostly of Eric trying to drag the tree up the steps while Thom pushed and tried not to get stabbed by the branches when Eric’s grip slipped.  There also a lot of Alan panicking about the damage the tree might do to the wood and walls, and all the while Sam giggled and yelped warnings as the tree failed to cooperate.

Hayze came out from his flat below and watched in exasperation, calling out instructions that Eric replied were hardly helpful and if he was just going to be an overseer he might as well go back to watching tv.  The reaper just snorted and observed their struggle until they finally managed to squeeze the tree through the door, leaving only a few scrapes in the plaster and a trail of needles in their absence.

“Holy crimoli,” Sam said, staring at the tree lying in the hallway. “That was fun.”

“Lots of help you were,” Thom laughed.

“Let’s decide on a spot in the living room,” Alan said.  “Eric, we need the stand.”

While Eric hurried back out the down to the car to retrieve the stand, Alan, Thom and Sam went into the other room.

“The little sofa and the chair should be turned so they face the fireplace,” Alan noted. “Since we’re actually starting to use it.”

“I can do that,” Thom said, “But what about the tree?”

“How about in the corner behind Eric’s chair?” Sam said, plopping down in said armchair.  “We can move the chair closer to the door leading the hallway.”

“Then the tree would be visible through the balcony doors,” Alan agreed. “That would look nice.  Let’s do it!”

When Eric got back, they’d already managed to move the armchair, Thom was dragging the sofa to face the fireplace and Sam was trying to a flame going.  Alan directed the tall reaper where to put the stand and then came the process of actually setting the tree up, which proved easier than expected.

Eric decided to put the lights on now would be better because they were on a roll anyway and no one would want to do it tomorrow.  They spent a good half hour on the task but the end result was satisfactory when they lit up the room with the colorful lights.

“I’ll have to clean this up,” Alan sighed, looking at all the pine needles scattered around the floor.  Eric put his arm around the other reaper.

“Not tonight. It’s too late to do any clean-up.”  He steered Alan toward the sofa and the fire, which Sam had made into a nice warm blaze.  They sat down and Thom took the chair while Sam remained on the floor, lying back with her arms behind her head.

“Can we help decorate the tree tomorrow?” the girl asked.

“Of course,” Alan replied, drawing his legs up on the couch as he settled into the cushions.  “We can do it after work.”

“Sammy and I are free in the afternoon,” Thom said and Alan tried to recall his schedule.

“I think Eric and I are too.”

“I have two after eleven at night but that’s all besides morning retrievals,” Eric said.  “Work always lessens around Christmastime.”

“How come?” Sam asked and Eric smiled.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I like to think because it’s a time for love and cheer, and even death backs off for a bit and allows life to take precedence.”

Alan rested his head on Eric shoulder. “I like that idea,” he said quietly, and Eric ran his fingers gently through the reaper’s hair.

“Why don’t you two sleep over tonight,” Eric said to the Danys.  His gaze went to the window, where snow was starting to fall more heavily. “I think it’s starting to storm.”

“Thanks,” Thom replied.  Sam’s eyes were already closed, but she gave Eric a thumbs-up.  Potato and Blossom came into the room and she settled on the arm of Thom’s chair while he curled beside Sam, enjoying the warmth of the fire.  Alan was glad he’d turned off most of the house lights; he was too comfortable now to get up.  The fire provided enough light; soft and orange, flickering on the walls and the Christmas lights created a magical aura.  Eric’s breathing was slow and steady, familiar, and contented quiet grew in the room until the night was swallowed up by sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of funny, to be posting this as the weather gets warmer. :D I absolutely love Christmas and fluff, so this chapter was a dream to write. I hope you enjoy it!


	50. Christmas Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff and cuteness, my dudes ;3

“…That’s what you’re wearing?”

Alan tried really hard not to sound condescending as Eric walked into the bathroom.

“What?” the tall reaper asked, facing the mirror and fluffing his hair, “It’s Christmas!”

Alan’s eyes took in the atrocity of a sweater Eric had put on and wondered what to say.  It was blue with red trim and there was a grinning snowman on the front surrounded by silvery stars.  The sleeves were also bright red.  “It’s… not very formal.”

“Formal? This is a Christmas party, not a ball,” Eric said, frowning at his reflection as he stroked his chin beard. “Should I give myself a trim?”

“Your beard’s fine but let me cut your hair,” Alan said, putting his brush down.  “It’s splitting at the ends.”  He opened the cabinet and took out a narrow pair of scissors as Eric pulled his sweater and turtleneck off and tossed them over the edge of the tub before sitting on the toilet seat cover.

“I know it’s not really formal,” Alan said, combing Eric’s wavy hair as straight as he could, “But it is a party and it’s nice to dress up a bit.”

“There’ll be a mix of outfits tonight,” Eric said with a toss of his hand.  “Will is gonna be dressed to the nines wherever he goes and Shelia takes pride in her giant fuzzy sweaters.”

“I suppose,” Alan relented, snipping a few centimeters of hair off.  The bits fell into his hand and he brushed them into the trashcan.  “All good,” he said, dusting off the few golden strands that had drifted to Eric’s shoulders.

Eric stood and pulled his shirts back on.  “What time are people arriving?”

“Five thirty,” Alan replied.  “Could you check the squash in the oven, please?”

“I would have no idea if they’re ready or not, but I’ll do my best,” Eric said, kissing the side of his partner’s head before exiting the bathroom.  Alan looked at his own pale green collared shirt and red sweater before shaking his head and finishing up with his hair.

Half an hour later he had the squash out of the oven, a salad whipped up, and the cats fed.  The doorbell was due to ring at any second when Eric entered the kitchen.  He was still wearing a Christmas sweater, but now it was a dark brown with a red and green pine tree design across the chest and biceps.

“Oh, Eric,” Alan said guiltily, “You didn’t really have to change.  I didn’t mean it…”

“You’re right,” Eric said, picking up Potato, who was meowing at his feet.  “We’re the hosts; we should look nice.”  There was a knock on the door at that moment and the tall reaper went to answer it.  “Let’s get this party started!”

 _‘How can you make me feel so guilty and so good at the same time?’_ Alan wondered inside his head.  The voices from the hall told him Thom and Sam had arrived and while they were still in the foyer a second knock sounded and Mr. Eccles’s voice came drifting back to the kitchen. 

“Hello, Alan!” Thom came into the room, several bags in his arms, snow melting in his hair. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” the reaper answered, “Do you want some help with those?”

“That’d be great,” Thom answered, and Alan rounded the island to help.  Before he could take any of the bags, however, Eric came swooping in from nowhere and plucked a small brown one from Thom’s grasp.

“Careful!” he warned before vanishing back into the hall, Sam giggling after him.  Alan looked after the two of them.

“What’s that about?”

“Who knows.” Thom brushed the odd behavior away as Eccles came into the kitchen. “Can I put these under the tree?”

“Oh, right!”  Alan nodded.  “Go ahead.  Hello, Mr. Eccles,” he added as Thom left.  “Happy Holidays to you!  Is Hanukkah over for you yet?”

“Happy Holidays!” the teacher replied, “Yes, it is, thank you for asking.”  He had hardly a chance to say anything further though, before there was a call from the front door.

“Hel-lo-o!  Merry Christmas!”

“Will and Grell!” Alan said, hurrying to greet them.  “Hang your coats anywhere.”

Grell handed her coat off to Will and hugged Alan, crushing the air out of him.  “Merry Christmas, love!  I’m just _dying_ to eat dinner!  Mine and Will’s cooking doesn’t compare to yours in the slightest.”

Alan cast an apologetic look at the management reaper, but Will took the insult in a stride, hanging up the coats and rapping Grell sharply on the head as he passed her.  “Happy Holidays, Alan.  We appreciate the invitation.”

“Of course,” Alan said, untangling himself from Grell and shaking Will’s hand. “I’m glad you came.  So’s Eric, but I’m not sure where he is right now.”

“He’s on the balcony with Sam and Thom,” Eccles said as he crossed their path in the hall to go to the living room.  The other three followed to find Eric and Sam throwing snowballs down on the two figures walking up the path to the door.

“OI!” Eric shouted down. “Get off my lawn!”

“I don’t have to listen to you!” Joy yelled back and beside her, Shelia bent down and scooped up a handful of snow.  Throwing it, it sailed past Eric and hit Alan smack in the nose.  The carrot-top gasped and put her hands to her mouth. “Sorry!” she cried as Alan wiped the wet substance from his face.  “That was for Eric!”

Eric was chuckling loudly and Alan laughed.  “It’s fine! Come on up!”

A few moments later they were all in the flat, organizing presents under the tree and helping Alan set the table for dinner.

“Dinner or presents first?” Eric asked, and they took a quick vote, with the majority claiming they were starving.  So Eccles got the plates, Thom set out the silverware, Alan double-checked the food, and Eric and Shelia made drinks: acholic and virgin beverages alike.  Considering their number, they had to split seating between the island and the kitchen table, resulting in a crowded room.  No one minded and the meal was passed with lively chatter and laughter.

When the food was gone and the dirty dishes mostly cleared away, a smile grew on Sam’s face and she kneeled on the sofa in front of the fireplace, resting her elbows on the back.  “So… presents?” she asked without an ounce of shame.

Eric stood up from his chair, nodding. “Alright!  Come, everyone!” he called out, “Mystery Gift time!”

The mystery gifts had been Eccles’s idea.  He’d brought it up at a previous get-together, explaining it as a tradition he’d used to do with his pupils.  “Everyone would pick a name out of a bowl and then have to get a present for that person,” the teacher described. “But don’t let anyone know who you have!”

Of course, everyone had taken to the game at once and agreed to do it for their Christmas celebration.  Now, in the flat, everyone was settling in the living room around the tree, eager to trade the boxes and bags and festively wrapped presents.

“Choose the first present, Eric,” Will said. “You are the host, after all.”

“I decree you the present chooser,” Shelia said, tucking her knees into her giant sweater so she looked like a fuzzy green ball.

“Alright!” Eric laughed and picked up a small nicely wrapped box.  “This one’s for you, Shelia.”

“Sweet!” Shelia took the offered gift and undid the tiny ribbon, lifting the top to reveal a pair of earrings.  Lifting one, she showed off the tiny pressed flower in glass hanging from the hook.  “These are gorgeous!” she declared.  “I’m going to take a wild guess here and say this is from Alan.”

“Yup!” the reaper smiled and Shelia leaned over to give him a hug and a ‘thank you’ before trading out the earrings she was wearing for the new ones.  Eric snagged a second gift, a bag this time, and handed it over to Joy with a smirk.

“Here you go.”

Joy pulled out a bottle of vodka and laughed. “Thanks, Eric, I needed this.  Wanna share it?”

“Don’t open it now,” Will sighed, “There’s plenty of opened drinks in the kitchen.”

“Alright, I’ll save it for later,” Joy conceded, setting the bottle aside. “What’s the next goody?”

Next was nail polish for Sam from Grell, and the girl was pleased because the colors were black and a dark red that Grell pointed out was also the color of congealed blood, to which Sam said ‘Cool!” then laughed, embarrassed at her enthusiasm.

Grell was equally or more pleased with her own gift, which happened to be from Will and consisted of five passes to a spa in London.  “ _Very_ prestigious,” Grell stated before giving her lover a kiss on the lips.

Thom was thrilled when he unwrapped the very thin square gift and found a calendar with a different car as the picture for each month.

“I took photos of different reaper’s cars,” Joy explained. “Go to October; Eric’s is there.  I thought it was fitting, considering it’s orange and fall-like.”

“I love it!” Thom proclaimed. “Thanks!”

He in turn gave Will a set of neckties to which the management reaper said he greatly appreciated and was thankful Thom hadn’t tried to buy him some trivial trinket.  “In other words, thank you,” he said, and Thom smiled in relief and replied, ‘you’re welcome’.

One of the gifts wasn’t labelled but Sam said she knew it was from her for Eccles, and the teacher unwrapped it to find three notebooks with little inspirational quotes and doodles of smiley faces and flowers in the corners of the pages.

“For your teacher work,” Sam said, “I figured you could always use notebooks, so I got some and added a cute touch.”

“I’ll be sad when they’re used up,” Eccles said, leafing through the pages and smiling at the kind words and pictures.

“I can always make you more!” Sam offered, and Eccles gave her a hug and said he loved the gift very much.

Alan discarded the paper his present was wrapped in and gasped in delight at the colorful box of pencils in his hand.  “Shelia or Eccles?” he questioned, and Eccles nodded.

“From me,” he said, and Alan embraced him in thanks.

“I’m nearly out of most of my pencils,” he said, and Eric piped in with agreement.

“They’re worn to nubs!” he said. “You’ve needed new ones for a good while.”

“Perfect timing!” said Sam.

“Then I suppose this last one’s for me from Shelia,” Eric noted, picking up the heavy bag. “I hope it’s a cake.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Shelia laughed as the tall reaper pulled out a stack of five books bound with string. “It’s books. Can’t eat those.”

“I’ll devour them like crazy, don’t you worry,” Eric said eagerly, undoing the string and reading the first title.  “‘A Heart Tossed By Waves’,” he said out loud. “What’s the story?”

“Apparently it’s a pirate’s tale of love or something,” Shelia said. “It was in display at a bookstore in town and I know you’re all about those cheesy love stories.”

“He sure is,” Alan agreed and Eric punched him gently in the shoulder.

“Thanks,” he said, re-stacking the novels.  “I’ll probably have these done before spring.”

Alan stood, straightening his shirt. “Well!  Should we have cocoa now?”

“Yes!” chorused everyone.

“Wait here; I’ll get it,” Alan smiled and vanished into the kitchen.  Shelia rose to her feet and followed, leaving the others to discuss their gifts and find spots in front of the fireplace.  She entered the kitchen, where Alan was spooning cocoa powder into nine mugs.

“Can I help?” she asked, and Alan glanced over with a smile.

“Sure,” he said, “You can put the sugar in.  Two spoonsful should do it.”  He put away the cocoa and turned the flame up under the pot as Shelia added the sugar.  The radio was playing, filling the home with Christmas songs, and he had begun humming along when Shelia spoke.

“I’m really glad we got to be friends, Alan.”

The reaper looked over at her and she flashed a smile at him.  “I’m glad too,” he said, wondering where this was suddenly coming from.

Shelia set down the spoon and leaned on the counter.  “Eric’s totally a different guy since he met you and it’s amazing.  He’s so lucky to have you and you’re lucky to have him.”

“And we’re lucky to have you as such a kind friend,” Alan responded.  “I wouldn’t dream of not having you in our lives.”

Shelia looked at him, her green eyes bright and warm and thankful, and then grinned again.  “Thank you, Al,” she said, stepping over to him and wrapping him in a hug.  “You’re something special.”

Alan smiled into her shoulder, returning the warm embrace.  “So are you,” he said softly and they held each other for a moment, wondering what it would be like if it was the opposite, if Eric had fallen in love the other way.  Silently, Alan expressed his deepest thanks that things had turned out how they had.  He knew Shelia was happy that Eric was happy and that she truly loved both of them.

 _‘Thank you.’_ He thought, too shy to speak the words out loud.  _‘Thank you for accepting us.’_

Finally they broke apart and took in each other for a second before the pot began to whistle.  Shelia quickly finished up with the sugar and Alan poured the steaming water over the dry powders.

“Perfect,” Shelia declared, stirring the drinks.  “Let’s serve these up.”

“Thanks for your help,” Alan said as they each took a try of cups and headed for the living room.  “I’m glad you could come tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss such a cozy party,” Shelia replied.  “Tonight is a night for friends.”


	51. Captured Time

When the night drew to a close, Eric was left feeling full, tired and extremely satisfied.  All in all, he decided the night had been beyond a success.  He knew something had gone on between Alan and Shelia in the kitchen, but whatever it was it hadn’t been bad, he could tell.  Everyone had stayed late; glancing at his watch he saw it was now nearly one ‘o’ clock as Sam and Thom were getting ready to walk out the door, being the last of the guests.

“Eric, the thing!” Sam said, breaking into his thoughts.  “Remember the thing?”

“Ah yes, the thing!” he said, recalling the small gift.  “I’ll grab it!”  He left the entry hall, hurrying to his bedroom bath, where the bag was hidden under the sink.  Grabbing it, he rejoined the other three.

“What’s this?” Alan asked, suspicious about Sam, Thom, and Eric’s smiles.  “What’s going on?”

“We go you something,” Eric said, holding up the brown bag.

“It was originally Thom’s idea,” Sam said and Eric handed the package to Thom who passed it to Alan.  “I hope you like it.”

Alan opened the bag and pulled out a single packet of seeds.  Reading the name of the flower the seeds came from, his eyes widened.  “Chocolate Cosmos,” he said almost reverently. “These are so rare…  But-.” He looked up at them. “How on earth did you manage to find this?”

“I know a guy who knows a guy,” Eric said, delighted with Alan’s reaction.

“He means he knows me,” Thom grinned. “I knew a fellow who used to live across the ocean and he’d bring back all sort of rarities.  I figured if we were to find any sort of rare flower, it would be in his shop.”

Alan’s gaze went to each of his friends, eyes pricked with tears. “Thank you,” he said. “I love it so much.”

“You’re welcome!” Sam replied, hugging Alan, and Thom did the same before the siblings finished putting on their hats and left for the night.  In the hall, Eric watched as Alan gazed lovingly at the packet of seeds for another moment before turning his gaze to his partner.

“I have something for you, too,” he said.  “Though I’m afraid it’s nothing as wonderful as what you’ve just given me.”

“I doubt that,” Eric smiled, following Alan to the far bedroom where the other reaper knelt down and pulled a leather case out from under the bed.  Handing the case to Eric, they both settled on the mattress and Eric unbuckled the top of the bag.  Curiously looking inside, his eyes widened and a smile spread across his face as he lifted out the instant camera.

“Damn!” he said, turning it over carefully in his hands, admiring the machine.  It was black and silver in color and had a flashbulb affixed to the top.

“It’s not new,” Alan said, “But it’s full of film and I made sure it worked before buying it.”

“I love it already,” Eric said enthusiastically.  He couldn’t wait to try it out, and took hold of Alan’s hand, standing and pulling him into the living room.  “Let’s make it’s first picture one of us.”

They stood close together in front of the tree, Eric extending his arm out, pointing the camera at their smiling faces as they posed.  The flash went off, making them blink after the image was captured.  When the photograph came out clear and bright, Eric held it out for Alan to see.

“The first picture of us together,” he said, and Alan took the picture, holding it gently in his hands as he studied it.

“I’ve never had a moment in time captured like this before,” he said, and Eric wondered if his tone was sad or just thoughtful.  He decided the best course of action was to lift the camera again and kiss a surprised Alan on the cheek just as the shutter clicked.  When he held up this one, they both laughed at the silly sweetness caught by the camera.

“I’m not going to get tired of using this,” Eric said, fiddling with the settings and lens.  “We’ll have photographs all over the place in no time.”

“Good,” Alan replied, going to the fireplace and setting the pictures against a candle holder so they looked over the room.  “I don’t want to forget any of this.”

Eric crossed to him and laced his fingers in with his partners.  “We’ll make memories on top of memories,” he promised.  “And everything will be great.”

Alan smiled up at him.  “I hope so.”

Eric read the love and wishes and shattered dreams in Alan’s dark green eyes and squeezed his hand tightly.  “I hope so too,” he said, “I _know_ so.”

Then Blossom trotted into the room and Alan said, “We need a picture with the cats!” and Eric got the camera ready while Alan ran to find Potato for a proper family picture.

I _IIIIII_ I March 16th

“Alan?  What’s up?”

Alan looked up to see Joy walking towards him down the hall, only a few feet away.  She looked a bit concerned for him.

“Are you spacing out?”

Alan pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and waved his hand. “Just deep in thought, I guess,” he said. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t tell her the truth.  Such a confession wouldn’t be approved by anyone.  He didn’t tell her he had collected several souls that morning and each time he’d comforted the soul as best he could.  He kept quiet about the weight and glow of life as he’d held them, whispering words of reassurance to try and help them leave this world easier.  There was no way he could reveal the attention he gave the dying.  It was not what a reaper did and yet, since that first time a little over three months ago when he’d held the child’s soul in that hospital, he’d paid the same attention to every life he’d collected since.

“I heard from Eric that there’s a party at your flat tonight,” he said instead, steering the conversation way from himself.

The topic was a good choice, for Joy’s eyes lit up in a mischievous way and she grinned. “Yeah; Shelia and I spent all morning getting ready for it.”  She put her hand on her hip. “Did Eric also tell you that this probably isn’t your type of gathering?”

“Yes, he did,” Alan replied, raising an eyebrow.  “He didn’t seem too eager for me to come with him.”

“Oh, hon!” Joy laughed and patted his cheek, which annoyed Alan a bit, but not enough to say anything.  “You’re too pure for this crowd!”  Her eyes flickered over his body and a smirked curled the edges of her lipstick black mouth.  “A way too innocent.”

Alan sighed inwardly at the obvious insult to his sex life.  “I think I’d much prefer not to be surrounded by a mob of drunk reapers anyway,” he said, picking up his satchel from the ground where he had set it earlier.  “I’m sure you’ll all have a fine time and I hope the hangovers don’t affect your work.”

“Touché,” Joy said.  “See you around, Alan.”

“Have a good rest of the day,” he replied, before heading off down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chocolate Cosmos can mean 'Walk With Me Hand in Hand' and 'See, Life is Indeed Beautiful'. It can also mean 'I Love You More Than Anybody Can' when gifted to a loved one.
> 
> Thanks so much to @NickiShirotani for the camera gift idea! ~♥
> 
> Also, sorry this chapter is so short. I will post again soon and I promise angst in chapter 52~


	52. Possession

The sun was already set when Eric got home that night.  Pulling up to the curb, he cut the engine and sat for a minute, too lazy to move right away.  Looking up past the iron gate, he watched the second-floor window.  It was glowing with soft yellow light, which meant Alan was still up and about, doing some work, or perhaps he was reading or drawing.  The most satisfied feeling in the world rested comfortably in Eric’s chest as he gazed at the drawn curtains, knowing what lay beyond them.

“Happiness,” he said, finally getting himself to move and leave the vehicle.  Taking a breath of the crisp air, he leaned against the car, instantly regretting his decision as his sleeve came away covered in slush and mud.

“Need to wash that,” he mentioned to no one, keenly aware the next car washing would come with the nearest future rainstorm.  Snagging his scythe and workbag from the passenger seat, he headed into the house. Tramping up the steps, he opened the door, announcing his return.  The cats didn’t rush to greet him, which was unusual.

“Po-ta-to,” he sang out, dropping his things to the kitchen table, “Where you at?”

No response came from anywhere in the flat and that’s when the prickle went down Eric’s spine.  He wasn’t quite sure what caused it; everything seemed just the same as when he’d left that morning.  Not a thing was out of place in the kitchen and he went to the living room to find it equally unchanged and just as vacant of life

Still, there was a weird feeling creeping along his shoulders and he went from the living room to his office, calling Alan’s name.  “Al?  Where are you?”

The fact that there wasn’t an answer to his question hit his nerves harder than anything else.  About to leave the office, he suddenly caught sight of a ball of fluff under his desk.  Crouching, his eyes met the wide feline gazes of Potato and Blossom.  Both were huddled together in the corner, squished behind the wastebasket.  Potato hissed when their eyes met, fur in defensive spikes all along her spine.

“What’s got you spooked?” Eric muttered, straightening up to move to the next room.  Opening his bedroom door, he at first thought it was empty as well, but taking a step in his eyes at once found the anomaly on the other side of the bed.

“Alan, oh god!” Eric nearly tripped over nothing in his haste to reach his partner’s side.  The smaller reaper was laying on his back on the floor, dressed for bed with his eyes closed.  Repeating Alan’s name, Eric kneeled down and took up the reaper’s hand in his own.  Eyes flickering over Alan’s face, he found nothing to indicate life and bent swiftly, cheek to cheek with the reaper to listen for breath.  An erratic flow of air, in and out, made Eric almost choke with relief, and he realized he had been holding in his own breath.

“Alan, hey,” he said, unsure what to do, “Al, wake up, come on.”

 _‘Did he fall down and hit his head or something?’_ There was no sign of blood and Eric couldn’t feel a bump or cut of any sort.  _‘Dammit; if he doesn’t wake up in a minute, I’m calling the infirmary.’_

 The moment the though crossed his mind, Alan’s eyes flew open.  A flood of relief went through Eric and he smiled at his partner. “Hi,” he said. “What happened?”

“You’re bothering me,” Alan hissed in a voice that was nothing like Eric had ever heard come from the reaper’s mouth.  Before he could react, Alan’s hand was at his neck, pushing him backwards into the bed with a scary strength Eric had almost forgotten all reapers had.  If he hadn’t been caught so off guard he would have been able to block the attack, but the shock of- of what? What was happening right now?  The frame of the bed dug sharply into his back and Alan’s fingers were pressing so hard into Eric’s flesh that his nails almost drew blood.

“Al-,” he grunted through gritted teeth, latching onto the reaper’s arm, “Stop-.”

“Shut up,” Alan growled, driving his knee into Eric’s chest so the tall reaper gasped for breath, “Maybe I’ll have you too, when I finished with this one.” Alan’s tongue flickered out, licking his dry lips.  “I’m so hungry… need to eat…tasty souls!”

By now it was painfully clear to Eric that whoever this was, it certainly wasn’t Alan.  All he could do was hope that his friend was still in there somewhere.  Well, he wasn’t going to find out unless he fought back.  Eric knew he could take Alan in a fight, but he didn’t know what had taken control of him.  If it was stronger than the bigger reaper, then they were both dead, but there was no way he was going to lose Alan like this.  He needed to try.  Looking up, he found that Alan’s pupils were severely dilated, and he was panting for breath, sinking hazily into some sort of ravenous fever.  Eric took his chances.

Tightening his grip on Alan’s arm, his right hand flew out, gripping the reaper’s shirt collar.  Yanking the other close his chest in a burst of movement, he threw himself forward, using the greater weight of his body to slam Alan back to the carpet and pin him down.

“No-!” Alan-the thing-cried, disoriented, and Eric didn’t give him a chance to recover.

“Sorry, Alan,” he grunted, drawing back his fist and landing a solid blow to the reaper’s jaw.  The punch was strong enough to knock him unconscious, and he collapsed limply under Eric.  For a fraction of a second Eric swore he saw double, finding two Alans beneath him, one form darker than the other, but then it was gone.  The tall reaper felt for a pulse and sagged with relief when he found a steady heartbeat.  Head bowed, he took a few deep breaths, composing himself before drawing back and getting to his feet.  Carefully, he lifted Alan into his arms and set him on the bed.  Settling on the edge of the mattress, he took his partner’s hand, not about to leave until he knew if Alan was himself or not.

It seemed like forever before Alan’s breathing changed and he slowly lifted his eyelids, tired eyes finding Eric from under dark lashes.  “Eric?” he asked, then winced, bringing his hand to up to gently brush his jaw.

Eric grimaced at the purple bruise spreading over his partner’s skin. “It’s you, right?”

Alan’s brows pulled together slightly. “What?  Of course.  What happened? Why does my face hurt?”

Eric scratched the back of his neck, chuckling more at the thankfulness of having Alan back than anything humorous.  “I may have punched you…”

Alan frowned and he sat up, letting out a squeak of pain as his body apparently protested the movement. “I’m confused,” he said, sounding a little frightened.  Eric didn’t blame him.

“You were…” he searched for the word. “…possessed, I think. Don’t you remember?”

Alarm washed all the color from Alan’s face. “Possessed?  Eric, stop, you’re actually scaring me!”

Eric wished it was a joke, some stupid idea he’d come up with on the ride home.  But it wasn’t. “I came home and the cats were freaking out,” he explained, trying to keep his voice as calm as he could.  “I got in here and you were on the floor.  When I woke you up, you attacked me, but it wasn’t _you_.”  He fingered his neck, feeling the scrapes and bruises.  “It said it was hungry for souls…”

Alan looked around the room, as if expecting to see some devil hidden in the corner, and Eric squeezed his shoulder. “Look; you’re okay now, right?  We’ll call Will and see if he knows what this could be.  It’ll all get sorted.  We’ll find that bastard and take care of him.”

“I don’t even know what going on!” Alan said in dismay, facing Eric.  “I attacked you?  There was something inside me eating my soul?”  He felt his chest, panicky. “I feel all weird inside and-.” His hand flew to his mouth. “I feel sick.”

Eric made to take his arm to help him to the bathroom, but Alan stayed his hands, closing his eyes and pressing fingers to his lips for a long moment before croaking out, “Water, please.”

Eric nodded, hurrying out of the room to the kitchen.  As he grabbed a cup out of the cupboard, the phone began to ring.  The glass filling, he ignored the sound.  A phone call didn’t matter, at least it didn’t until the voicemail started.

“Eric? It’s me!  Please pick up!”

The tall reaper recognized Thom’s voice at once and payed closer attention to the words, fear clenching his gut as the other reaper continued his message.

“Something weird just happened with Sammy!  She attacked me, but it wasn’t her and-!”

Eric had the phone to his ear before the sentence was finished.  “Hey, Thom, it’s me.”

Thom’s voice came through, panicked and quick, unlike his usual easy tone. “Eric! It sounds insane, but Sammy’s been possessed!  You gotta listen to me!”

“I believe you.” Eric cut him off as he went back down the hall to the bedroom, stretching the cord.  “Same thing happened with Alan.  Is Sam okay now?”

“I had to knock her down the steps but she’s just a bit bruised now,” Thom answered, his voice becoming clearer as he realized Eric was there for him.  “She’s freaking out, but she’s Sammy again.”

“Are you at home?” Eric asked.  The cord stopped him in the doorway of the room and he held out the glass of water.  Alan got off the bed to take it, drinking the liquid as he looked questioningly at him.

“Yeah,” Thom answered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay there.”  Eric covered the receiver. “Same thing just happened to Sam,” he said, and Alan’s eyes widened.  “I’m taking Alan to the infirmary,” Eric said to Thom.  “We’ll pick you up.”

“Thanks,” Thom said, sounding like he was going to cry. “Hurry up.”

The line clicked and Eric lowered the phone.  “Come on,” he said, “Let’s go.”

Alan didn’t resist, allowing Eric to put his arm around him as they hurried down the hall, replaced the phone, and grabbed jackets before heading out the door.  As Alan slid into the passenger side and Eric started the car he asked, “How do you feel?”

“Dirty,” Alan said, after a moment of hesitation. “Nothing hurts anymore. Except my jaw,” he admitted, and Eric’s mouth twisted unhappily. “I feel like there’s oil inside of me.”  He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s disturbing and wrong.”

Eric’s stomach churned at the words, but he didn’t know what to say except to assure Alan everything would be fine.  He wondered if he sounded convincing.  They pulled up to the Danys’ house not long after and Thom was pulling on the rear door before Eric had even put the car in park.  Watching in the rearview mirror, Eric saw that Sam had the same frightened, haunted expression on her face that Alan did.

When the siblings were in, Eric peeled away from the curb, the force pressing the occupants back into their seats.  The vehicle nearly hit a yellow bug car, which swerved wildly, sending street slush onto the windshield, but Eric ignored it.  He almost jumped with nerves when Alan’s hand rested on his arm.

“Eric,” the reaper said, his voice gentle, “We’re okay.  Right?  We’ll be okay.”  He looked back at Sam, who didn’t smile but flashed a thumbs up at Eric in the mirror.  He knew what they were doing.  They were too considerate for their own good. Admittedly, the gestures did make him feel slightly better; at least they were both themselves again.

“Let’s just make sure of that,” he said.

They made it to the infirmary and got Alan and Sam checked in.  They were hustled away and Thom was about to follow, but Eric rested a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. We need to tell Will what happened.”

“I want to be with Sammy,” Thom insisted, and Eric applied a bit of comforting pressure to his grasp.

“I know,” he said, “And I want to be with Alan, but if we don’t tell Will everything we know about the son of a bitch that did this, and get him caught, he may come back.”

That stopped Thom’s argument and he nodded dejectedly.  Eric didn’t doubt he felt as much worry for Alan and Sam as he did.  Especially Sam, considering she was his sister.  The nurse at the front desk caught his attention with a cough.

“Would you like me to get Mr. Spears on the line for you, sir?”

Eric hesitated.   It would be nice to stay at the infirmary, nearer to Alan, but he shook his head.  No good would come of any more reapers hearing of the incident than was necessary.

“I need a private meeting,” he said.  “If there is an ounce of bad news about either Miss Danys or Mr. Humphries, call Mr. Spear’s office; understood?”

“Understood, sir,” the nurse answered quickly, hearing the force in his tone.  Eric gave a sharp nod of approval and headed for the door, Thom yanking on his brown leather jacket as he came after him.

“Will Mr. Spears be in his office?” Thom asked.  Eric checked his watch and wished he’d thought about that.  However, it was only 9:30, there was a big chance the workaholic reaper hadn’t left the Dispatch Building yet.

“If he’s not, we’re going to his house,” Eric replied.  They both got into his car and the tall reaper took off down the street.  In the passenger seat, Thom had one foot on the seat, knee drawn up to his chest as he stared out of the windshield.

The Dispatch Building was brightly lit in the night, as usual, but Eric didn’t know the windows quite well enough to determine if Will’s was one of the lit or unlit ones.  He’d never really paid attention to that before and now such a trivial bit of information seemed critical. He wished he hadn’t been such an idiot and called Will from the infirmary before coming to his office.  No help for it now; they’d best get moving.

Entering the lobby, Eric rushed over to the front desk, Thom on his heels.  “If Mr. Spears in?” he demanded, making the reaper behind the counter jump.

“I don’t believe he’s left the building yet, no, Sir,” came the response, and Eric was already moving before he finished speaking.  The elevator seemed excruciatingly slow and Thom was biting his nails.

 _‘He’d better be up there,’_ Eric thought, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers impatiently on his arm.  _‘Answers can’t wait!’_

It didn’t cross his mind that Will may not have the key to the problem.  Alan, Sam, and anyone else who may be attacked depended on a solution, and if Will T. Spears didn’t know what to do, who on earth would?

Will was sitting behind his desk when Eric barged in, and Grell was sitting cross-legged on top of it, in the middle of some lively story, by her animated hand movements.  The management reaper cast a distasteful look at the two who had just entered.

“Knocking is required for a professional business environment,” he said tersely.  “If you want to-.”

“Alan’s been possessed,” Eric cut in loudly.

“Sammy too,” Thom added, much less forcefully than Eric but with the same level of conviction in his tone.

That killed Will’s irritation and he rose to his feet, eyes sharp. “Explain,” he said as Grell stared at them in disbelief.  Eric proceeded to explain the night so far, the words tumbling out of his mouth so ridiculous he was struck again by the insanity of the situation.  What sort of world was this where he had to collect the souls of the dying and his boyfriend was possessed?

When he finished, Grell laughed.  “And you think I’m crazy?”

“I’m not bloody joking!” Eric growled, taking a step toward her and clenching his fist.  She glared at him.

“Get out of my face!”

“I just want Sam to be safe!” Thom cried, and the two reapers looked to him.  “Mr. Spears, please; do you know anything?”

Will already had a large binder in his hands and was rapidly flipping the pages.  His brow was knotted behind his glasses and when he glanced up, his expression was one of apprehension.  Eric’s heart fluttered; Will didn’t worry about much.

“What?” he asked, leaning on the desk, “What’s is it?”

“I believe it’s a demon,” Will replied, his voice cold. Setting the binder on the desk, he pointed to the page it was open too.  It was a list of what Eric assumed to be different types of demons.  “We call them Pickpockets because, unlike most demons, they don’t make contracts to obtain a soul.”

“They just go ahead and take it,” Eric snarled and Grell tugged a strand of her hair, frowning at the file.

“Isn’t that against demon law, or something?”

“Demon rules, yes,” Will answered.  “Even such lowlifes as them have a line drawn in the sand.  Pickpockets are rare, mostly because other demons hunt and kill them for going rogue.”  The management reaper’s glasses glinted.  “As do reapers.”

“So how do we find it and kill it?” Eric asked bluntly.  His death scythe was at home, but he was perfectly prepared to drive and get it at any moment.  The Pickpocket demon would get what it deserved, sooner or later, and he preferred it to be sooner.

Will snapped the binder closed.  “Unfortunately, demons aren’t like rabbits. One cannot simply put a snare out and hope the prey will get itself caught.  This is a job for Demon Dispatch.”

“I want to help,” Eric said, and Thom nodded in agreement, but Will shook his head firmly.  “If you are to be part of this, that’s for our Demonic Specialist to decide.  This is a demon that can take control of a body, Eric.  The team that goes on this mission will be carefully selected.”

“Well then,” Eric replied, “Who’s the specialist?  I want a word or two.”


	53. Chapter 53

“I can’t believe you’re a Demonic Specialist,” Eric said dumbly, staring at the reaper Will had called to the office.

“Everyone has their own thing, I suppose,” Eccles said, setting the monstrous stack of files he’d brought in onto Will’s desk.  “I have had a fair share of interactions with demons and the like.”

“My mind is blown.”  Eric sat on the edge of the desk. “You’re a teacher.  No offense to teachers.”

Eccles smiled slightly.  “A lot of people say that.”

“So, can you find the Pickpocket?” Thom asked, bringing the talk back around to the more serious root of the conversation.  “Is it even possible?”

“Difficult,” Eccles said, opening one of the folders, “but not impossible.  Knowing the type of demon it is helps immensely.”  Paging through the sheets of paper, he stopped at one.  The other four crowded closer, looking at the page.  “Pickpocket Demons,” Eccles read, “an uncommon but dangerous breed of demons that steal the soul instead of trading for it.”

Under the words was a photograph and Eric jabbed a finger at it.  “That! That’s it!”

The picture showed a fuzzy black shape, vaguely human, with large black wings.  The most notable thing, however, was the second image, slightly off the first.  It was if they were seeing double.  Eccles nodded grimly.  “Pickpockets are always in a state of phasing from substantial to insubstantial.  It allows them to be less than material, therefor it’s easier for them to merge with a fully physical being.”

“How do you drive a weapon through a thing that isn’t solid?” Eric asked, and Eccles glanced at him.

“Fortunately, death scythes are made to cut through insubstantial things, are they not?”

A smirk flashed across Eric’s face.  The expression wasn’t a happy one; it retained a more sinister attitude, holding a thirst for vengeance and pleasure at the idea of retribution.  “Let me hunt for it,” the tall reaper said.  “I want to get the bastard.”

“You’ve sparked something in him,” Grell purred quietly, watching Eric with sharp eyes.  “I wouldn’t say no if I were you.”

Eccles hesitated for a second before relenting.  “Alright, you may assist me.”  Facing the binder again he said more softly, “I’m not sure I could stop you if I wanted to,” but Eric didn’t hear.

“Please, let me help as well,” Thom said.  His voice was stronger now, his hands steady.  “I’m not asking to deliver the final blow; I know there are others more qualified than me for that, but I want to help.”

Eccles studied the younger reaper for a moment, then nodded, smiling kindly. “Very well.  You can begin by helping me list all the information we have on Pickpocket demons.  The restricted area of library should hold useful intel.”  The teacher handed Thom a key. “Here.  The librarians will allow you in if you show them this.”

“Got it,” Thom said, taking the offered key.  “Thank you!”  He turned, hurrying out the door, and Eric faced Eccles.

“And what about me?”

“I’ll need you later,” the teacher said pointedly.  Reaching out, he patted Eric on the arm. “Go check up on Alan and Sam; I know you want to.  I will call if we find anything regarding the demon’s location.”

“Alright,” Eric nodded. “The second you know anything-.”

“I promise,” Eccles said, placing his hand on Eric’s shoulder and pushing him gently toward the door.  “Now go on.”

“I’ll walk down with you,” Grell said, hopping off the desk, somehow landing perfectly steady despite the heels she was wearing.  “If I stay, I’ll be given work to do.”

“Fine,” Eric agreed, and they left the office.  When the two reapers were gone, Eccles lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  Will crossed his arms, frowning at the teacher.

“You believe it’s wise to allow him to be a part of this?” the management reaper asked.  “He is not always the most level-headed when it comes to Alan.”

Eccles adjusted his glasses and turned to Will with a steady gaze.  “Mr. Spears, when you first assigned Eric as Alan’s mentor, I deemed it to be foolish because I was concerned about what influence he may have on Alan.  But as of this moment, I believe Alan was the best thing that ever happened to Eric and if I don’t allow him to fight for his partner, that action would be as heartless as all my attempts to separate them in the beginning.”

Will studied Eccles for a brief moment and then nodded once.  “Very well. It is your decision to make.  Now; what are we looking for specifically?”

“Any clues as to where this demon may be hiding until it decides to attack again,” Eccles replied, pulling a chair to the desk and sitting down.  “When Thom returns with more information, we’ll have to go through that as well.”

“More work,” Will sighed, settling into his chair and pulling a folder toward him.  “Such an inconvenience, these things.”

“Such a dangerous dilemma,” Eccles retorted.  “But if we work fast enough, we will catch it before any more harm is done.”

Will straightened a stack of papers, eyes glinting behind his spectacles.  “I do not plan to catch the demon, Sendyn.”

Eccles glanced up, pausing in his work for only a second.  “Of course,” he said.  “Do not worry, Mr. Spears; the job will be done thoroughly and without any remnants, besides our memories.”

I _IIIIII_ I

“Okay, you’ll never guess who the Demonic Specialist is,” Eric said.  “Literally, you’ll never guess.”

“Eccles,” Alan and Sam said at the exact same time, and Eric shook his head.

“No! It’s-,” he cut himself off.  “Wait, you both knew?  You _both_ knew?”

“Only for a short time,” Alan said.

“He told us when we all met up for lunch once,” Sam explained, putting a giant spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.  Before returning to the infirmary, Eric had gone to the city and gotten a tub of vanilla.  The girl had eaten almost all of it by herself.  The two may have to stay in the hospital for a day or two, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have sweets.  Alan had declined ice cream, but Eric had predicted that and brought something for the reaper to enjoy; a pot of small purple violets.  The three of them were now sitting on the two beds in the room.

Eric sighed. “I feel left out.”

Alan laughed softly.  “I’m sorry you have to work more than the rest of us.  You’re just so much more important.”

Eric chuckled, amused but grateful at his partner’s words. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“Did Mr. Eccles know anything about the demon?” Sam asked, and the tall reaper nodded.

“Yes; he said it’s something called a Pickpocket demon.  They don’t have to make contracts to get souls, apparently.”

Sam shivered. “That’s creepy.”

Alan frowned.  “I’ve never heard of that.  Are they common?”

“Fortunately, no,” Eric replied.  Even mentioning the demon was making him anxious and he rose from his spot on Alan’s bed, crossing to the window.  Spreading the slatted blinds with his fingers, he peered outside into the streetlamp lit road.  Everything was quiet and still, but the uncomfortable worry in the reaper’s chest refused to go away as long as his friends were in any sort of danger.  He remembered then that he had been supposed to attend a party.  It seemed so frivolous now.

“And why us,” Alan mused.  “Why Sam and I…?”

“There have been reports,” Eric said. “You two were only the first. Humans have been acting odd in the hours since…then everything went quiet.”

“Perhaps it had enough to eat,” Sam whispered, and Eric glanced at her, then Alan, and both came to the silent agreement to cease conversation about the demon and move on to things that were less dismal.

A few hours later Sam was asleep, curled up under the blankets, and Eric was on his back on Alan’s bed, his head resting against his partner’s side.  Alan was doing paperwork, steadfastly refusing to put off his duties.

“You could have gotten away with not working,” Eric said with a yawn, picking up one of the papers.  Soul counting….  The numbers disgusted Eric and he put the sheet back.  “They would have let you take a few days off.”

“There would just be more things to catch up on later then.”  Alan shuffled a few papers and then sighed.  “I’m done with this,” he said, dropping the stack onto the floor.  A few of the papers drifted away, sliding across the linoleum to come to a rest scattered about the room.  The reaper snuggled himself downward and Eric shifted so he could get farther under the covers.

“How do you feel?” the tall reaper asked, and Alan shrugged.

“Better, I suppose.”  He threaded his fingers into Eric’s hair, absentmindedly stroking through the golden locks.  “It’s more the idea of what happened than the actual event that makes me feel ill.”

“I feel the same way,” Eric said, and it would have come out in a growl had Alan’s soft touch on his head not had a calming effect on him.  “Eccles will find something sooner or later and then I’ll take care of him for you.”

“I wish you hadn’t volunteered,” Alan said, frowning.  “It’s dangerous.”

Eric turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.  “Hey,” he said, “I’ll be careful.  I just want to do this for you.  I don’t think I could leave it to someone else without thinking constantly if they were doing it right.  I need to be out there so I can be sure you’re going to be safe and no one will be killed by that demon.”

“Shh,” Alan hushed, and Eric glanced over to Sam’s bed.  She was still sound asleep, but he lowered his voice anyway.

“It’d drive me crazy if I just sat back and waited,” he continued.  “I’d just be thinking about you constantly.”

“You don’t already?” Alan asked, and a smile touched his face.  Turned his head, he reached out, softly caressing the petals of the violets on the bedside table.  “Don’t tell me you bought these without discovering their meaning.”

“With you as my boyfriend?” Eric smiled.  “Of course, I found out what they mean.”

Alan murmured the words along with him: “‘You occupy my thoughts’…”  The reaper ruffled Eric’s hair gently.  “As you do mine, Mr. Slingby.”

“Glad to hear that, Mr. Humphries,” Eric murmured, catching Alan’s hand and bringing it to his lips.  The smaller reaper blushed as Eric kissed his fingers, his pale cheeks becoming pink.

“Eric…”

“What?” The tall reaper glanced up, his eyes and smile magnetic, setting Alan’s heart to fluttering.  He was still holding his hand.  Alan didn’t know what he was trying to say, and eventually settled on; “You mean so much to me,” in a sort of half whisper as he tried to convey what he was truly feeling.

Eric simply replied with “I love you too,” then kissed his hand again, so gently, and Alan didn’t need anything else.

I _IIIIII_ I March 19th

The phone rang several times before Eric heard it.  Turning down the radio, which was blasting music through the kitchen, he tossed the dishcloth he was holding over his shoulder and picked the receiver up just as the line clicked to leave a message.

“It’s Eccles,” came the voice, “If you can pick up the phone, please-.”

“I’m here,” the tall reaper said, pulling the cord so he could return to his task of drying and putting away dishes. “What is it?  Did you find anything?”

It had been three days since the demon attack and everyone had been impatiently waiting for news.  Alan and Sam had been released from the hospital the morning after with advice to rest up in case of lingering effects of demonic presence.  Thom, Will, Eccles and other reapers had been doing frustratingly ineffective research and found very little information that may help with the problem, making Eric more and more irritated each day.  Now however, his heart leapt at the words that came out of Eccles’s mouth.

“We’ve got something,” the teacher said. “Come to meeting room A at once.”

“Be right there,” Eric replied, already hanging up the phone.  Throwing the towel onto the counter, he darted to the living room, where Alan was flipping through a flower catalog.

“I love how monkshood looks, but I’m not sure I want it in the yard,” he said when Eric came in.  “The color is beautiful, but it means-.”

“Eccles said they found something,” Eric interrupted, and Alan focused on him, eyes widening.  His expression was one of relief, but also fear, and Eric didn’t like seeing that look on his partner’s face.  “I’m going to the Dispatch Building right now,” he continued, and Alan closed the catalog, rising to his feet.

“Please be careful,” he said, every syllable awash with worry.  Eric nodded and cupped his hand behind Alan’s head, drawing him closer to kiss his forehead before promising, “I’ll see you later,” and going to fetch his bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violet (Purple) - You Occupy My Thoughts.  
> Monkshood - Beware, Danger Is Near.
> 
> Left you guys on another cliffhanger. :3 :3:3 Sorry... (but I like the tension xP)


	54. The Pickpocket

When he entered the meeting room on the top floor of the Dispatch Building, Eric found a small posse of reapers already there.  Eccles and Thom and Will, of course, and twelve others Eric sort of knew from around the building as being Demonic Dispatch.  He nodded to everyone and then turned to Eccles.

“Well?”

The teacher handed him a binder and Eric flipped through it as Eccles spoke to the room as a whole.  “Everything we have is in your folders.  As noted before, Pickpocket Demons steal souls, instead of trading for them and are not substantial beings.  They have few defining characteristics, but there are a few things we can draw on to narrow our search.”  Eccles nodded to Thom, who stepped up, looking nervous but determined.

“What we’ve found is that instead of making their homes among humans as most demon do when looking for a soul, Pickpockets prefer to stay isolated, away from settlement.”  He flipped through his folder briefly.  “Page four.  ‘Pickpockets are solitary demons for their own safety.  If they were to be discovered by another demon, they would be killed and therefor remain good distances away from populated areas’.”

“So that rules out the city,” Eric said, “But there’s still a lot of land out there.”

“This next part,” one of the other reapers said, tapping the page, “It says that they generally reside in wetland areas.”

“Marshes and bogs are the most common place to find Pickpockets,” Will agreed.  “It’s unknown why this happens, but statistic show that this is a fact.”

“That is why we’re going to search every marsh, bog, wetland and swamp in the surrounding area,” Eccles declared.  “Right now, this is our only lead.  Turn to the last page and there will be map of the area’s wetlands; I’ve assigned groups to do this work.  No reaper should be out there alone.”

As the reapers paired up, Eric read the names beside his.  Will… Eccles… Glancing up, he raised an eyebrow.  “Thom?”

“I can do this,” the reaper said defiantly.  “I’ve decided that I’m not just going to sit here and-.”

“Say no more,” Eric cut him off.  “And if Eccles believes you are qualified, then so do I.”

Eccles crossed to them and put a hand on Thom’s shoulder.  “The way this young man researches, I may have to recruit him for my team.”

Thom smiled, flattered but embarrassed, as Eccles spoke to everyone.  “Alright, let’s get moving.  Good luck, be strong, and don’t hesitate to use your scythes.”

They group dispersed, and Eric’s team headed for the parking lot at a fast pace.  Eric’s car, the closest to the exit, was chosen as their transportation.  Will took the passenger seat, so Thom and Eccles settled into the back.  Thom shook out the map, adjusting his glasses as he read it.

“Dodgers Swamp,” he said.  “Three miles out of London.  I’ll direct you there, Eric.”

The tall reaper nodded, foot pressed down hard on the gas pedal.  If this was the chance he got to exact revenge on the demon that had hurt Alan…he wouldn’t waste it.  He silently wished for the thing to be in their swamp so he could take it out himself.  The idea of danger didn’t even phase him; it was just a matter of driving the teeth of his scythe into the demon’s middle and ending it forever.

The drive wasn’t long, but it was a tense one, void of conversation beyond Eccles reciting a few instructions for confronting the Pickpocket.  Then they were there.  Eric parked the car at the edge, right where the ground became soft and trees sprung up, branches drooping and hung with moss.  The air smelled of damp soil, and the stink of swamp water was heavy enough Eric could almost feel it, thick and swollen in his mouth and nose.  Eccles got out of the car, taking in the surroundings with a critical eye.

“This certainly has ideal conditions…” He took his scythe from it’s leather strap at his side and Thom did the same, removing his from its place on his back.  Eric already had his in hand and Will spun his once, the end whistling through the air.  “Will and I will go one direction, Eric and Thom the other.  If there is a single inkling of the demon, call out at once.”  He nodded to each of them in turn.  “Good luck.”

Eric and Thom exchanged glances but no words as they headed into the swamp.  The mud pulled at their shoes and icy water seeped upward, soaking their feet.  They stepped on the driest places, using logs or rocks as stepping stones when they could, all the while keeping their eyes and ears open and alert.  However, no signs of a demon reached their senses as they moved along.

“What if it’s not here,” Thom said, wincing as the ground gave way beneath his foot, soaking his trouser leg almost to the knee.  “Perhaps one of the other teams found it.”

“I’d prefer that to not catching it at all,” Eric replied.  He glanced upward at the tree branches overhead.  The few dry leaves, mostly absent this time of year, waved gently against the cloudy afternoon sky and Eric shook his head at them, conveying his displeasure at the innocent foliage.

“Maybe we’d be better off contacting the other teams,” he sighed, bringing his gaze back down to the earth.  “It’s getting colder out here every minute and here’s nothing at all besides muck, trees and cattails.”

“Good idea,” Thom agreed, disheartened.  He had hardly taken a step in the direction they had come, however, when his mannerism suddenly changed from unhappy to incredibly afraid.

“Eric! There!”

The tall reaper turned, scythe held out in a defensive potion, looking where Thom pointed.  There, flitting amongst the trees, was a dark shape, flickering in a way that made Eric’s head hurt from watching it.  The Pickpocket demon was black, nearly completely so, with burning red eyes and slender limbs.  Its mouth opened to let out an ungodly hiss, and the teeth inside were pure white.

“Do not take your eyes off of it!” Eric warned.

The second he spoke, the demon moved, perhaps seeing the words as an attack.  It was in front of them in no time, it’s jittery movements daunting and disturbing.   When it was in range, Eric swung his death scythe, the teeth of the saw biting into the dark chest of the creature.

The Pickpocket let a screech that made Eric’s ears ring and it wavered, glitching backwards a bit.

“Didn’t expect that to hurt, did you?” the reaper growled, gripping the scythe even harder and advancing with long strides.  “Come on; let’s finish you off!”

The demon took them a bit more seriously after that, darting and weaving to avoid their scythes as they circled and swiped at it.  When it went for Thom, Eric slashed at its back and as it turned to reconcile with the tall reaper, Thom stabbed from behind.  The two got several good hits in, but the wounds only seemed to make the Pickpocket angrier and more violent.  Its long arms ended in hands with deadly sharp nails that scratched and ripped at the reapers’ skin, leaving long narrow gashes in their arms.

Thom swore loudly when it succeeded in getting a hit to his face, and he staggered back a few steps from the blow.  His hand slapped to his cheek, feeling the jagged lines that had appeared there.  The Pickpocket hissed, pleased with its victory, prepared to attack the reaper with even more force when Eric shouted out,

“Hey, bitch!”

The death scythe nearly connected with the demon’s back but it vanished, completely absent from the air for a good second, and Eric faltered, confused as his saw met empty air.  Then it was as if everything paused, like time had slowed down to a snail’s pace.  Eric saw the demon reappear behind Thom, materialize with his spindly fingers stretched out toward the reaper.  Thom was still caught off guard by the attack that had wounded him and didn’t realize the danger he was suddenly in.

 _‘In half a second Thom’s soul is going to be lunch,’_ Eric’s brain supplied, and he moved unconsciously, dropping his scythe and diving for Thom.  They landed with an ‘oof’ in the soggy earth of the swamp and Eric put a hand on the other reaper’s back, keeping him down and under him.

The demon let out a harsh shriek and Eric’s fingers wrapped around Thom’s scythe, wildly bringing it around in a wide arc to keep the creature at bay.  Thom spit swamp water out of his mouth gasped, “You can’t hold it off by yourself!”

“I’m not letting it get to you too,” Eric growled. “Stay down.”

The tone of his voice was so deadly that Thom did as he was told, lying on his stomach partially submerged in the muck.  Eric rose to his feet, one hand holding the scythe, the other outstretched, beckoning the demon closer.

“Come on and let me cut out the darkness that sits in the place of your soul!”

The Pickpocket’s eyes narrowed, red orbs becoming slits in response to the brash command.  It shivered with hesitation, body flickering with multiple images of itself.  Eric cocked an eyebrow.

“Scared?”

The word snapped across the space between them and the demon snarled, not hesitating a moment longer.  It lunched itself at the reapers, arms outstretched.

“Move!” Eric yelled, and Thom did so, rolling to the side as fast as he could.  Eric did a sort of diving roll, praying whatever he was about to do would work.  The demon went right over him, landing on empty ground, hands snatching at nothing.  Eric slid across the mud and water, hand reaching for his saw scythe, feeling power return to him as he took hold of it.  Spinning around onto his back, he swung both death scythes in the air as the demon loomed over, it’s mouth open wide in anticipation of a feast.  Instead, it got two sharp blades cutting through its middle.

Hot black liquid spilled down on Eric, burning his skin with toxins, but the body of the Pickpocket was limp now, sliced in two on either side of the tall reaper as its blood oozed into the swamp.

He was about to get to his feet when Thom cried out, “Eric!” and his head snapped up to see a second, fainter demon, standing and twitching over him.

 _‘Its second image,’_ the reaper thought. _‘Its damn two-dimensional other half!’_

He knew whatever movements he did would come too late.  There wasn’t even time to fully comprehend the idea that he was done for.

And then all at once the demon let out a high-pitched shriek and exploded into a billion particles of light that vanished as they fell to the earth.  Eric was left shocked with relief, and staring up at Eccles, who was breathing heavily, scythe held in the air where the Pickpocket had been a moment before.

“Damn,” was all he could manage.

“I assume that means thanks?” Eccles asked, putting his scythe into his place at his hip and offering his hand to the fallen reaper.  Eric grinned, the actual realization that he was alive reaching his brain at last.

“It does,” he said gratefully, taking the hand and getting to his feet.  “That was too close.”

“I think my heart stopped beating,” Thom admitted, also rising.  Both reapers were covered in swamp muck and Eric was dripping with demon blood in addition.

“The job is done, at least,” Will said, surveying the area.  “With no casualties.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Eric said, wiping a hand across his face.  The action only caused the gunk there to smear even more impressively across his skin, and he grimaced.  “Lots of drinks.”

“I’ll have team come in to clean this up,” Eccles said.  “One of us should remain here to make sure this thing stays dead.”

“I’ll remain,” Will said, eying Thom and Eric. “Some of us need to have a wash.”

“My car is going to be disgusting,” Eric moaned as the three began their trek back to the vehicle.  Eccles patted him on the shoulder and then then flinched at the blood and goop that got onto his fingers.

“Well, I’d say it’s a price to pay for defeating a demon,” the teacher said, and Eric nodded, pushing his slimy hair from his eyes.

“I fair price,” he said, “If Alan and Sam and everyone else is safe.”

“They will be now,” Eccles replied.  “Thanks to you and Thom.  A job done well, gentlemen, is a job well done.”


	55. An Old Friend

Alan saw the orange car out of the window and was rushing out the front door before Eric even fully stopped the vehicle.  He met the tall reaper at the gate, embracing him tightly. It had crossed his mind several times since Eric had left that demons were extremely dangerous creatures, powerful enough to kill a reaper, and Eric may not have come back at all.

“I should have hugged you before you left,” he mumbled into his partner’s coat.

“What?” Eric asked, returning the embrace. “It all worked out; the demon is dead and everyone’s safe.”

“Thank god,” Alan sighed, looking up at Eric, who laughed suddenly.  “What?” He questioned, confused, and the other reaper used his thumb to wipe at something on his cheek.

“I’m getting you all dirty,” Eric answered, and Alan realized then that the tall reaper was absolutely covered in filth.  He drew back a bit, face scrunching up in disgust.

“What is this?  Mud?” He took the edges of Eric’s coat in his hand, feeling the hardening gunk.  “Where were you?”

“Swamp goop and demon blood,” Eric responded, and Alan drew back quickly, making another face.  He moved toward the house, beckoning the tall reaper after him.

“I’m putting you in a bath before you get everything dirty,” he said, and Eric smiled, following after him into the building. 

“You make me sound like a puppy dog who rolled in a puddle.”

“You are a puppy!” Alan replied.  He went to the bathroom to start the shower as Eric took his shoes off outside the door and tried to avoid brushing against anything in the house.  Alan turned the water on, testing the heat with his hand, and closed the curtain partway so the droplets wouldn’t splash out before opening the showerhead.

“Oh no,” he said, turning to find Eric in the process of shrugging out of his coat, “All of it is going into the bath.”

Eric nodded at the wisdom of Alan’s words and left the clothing on as he stepped over the edge of the tub into the hot stream of water.  The liquid running down to the drain immediately turned a brownish black. As he stripped of his coat, shirt and socks, dropping them in muddy piles, Alan dug out all the soaps and shampoos from under the sink and lined them up in the rim of the bathtub.

“You’ll need all of these,” he said, and then looked up to find Eric had begun to undo his trousers.  Embarrassment washed over him, although he really wished it wouldn’t, and he didn’t know what to say.

Eric seemed to sense Alan’s sudden awkwardness, for he stopped with the next stage of undressing, leaving his trousers on.  Alan wasn’t quite sure if he felt relieved or disappointed. He wondered what Eric was thinking.

“Good idea,” Eric agreed, breaking the tension with his casual tone. He glanced down at the shallow cuts on his arms that were only now visible.  “Ah, looks like it got me once or twice, eh?”

“Oh my goodness,” Alan gasped, rising and reaching out to trail his finger just beside one particularly long gash down Eric's chest.  The taller reaper flinched slightly and Alan pulled his hand back.

“Eric, why didn't you mention this at once?” he scolded, pulling the first aid box from under the sink and taking out a roll of sticky bandages.

“Ah, it's fine,” Eric said, sitting in the bottom of the tub. “Thom got a hit to his face.”

“And he's alright?” Alan asked worriedly, wetting a cloth.  He put a bit of sterilizing peroxide and starting carefully dabbing the would on Eric's body.

“He’ll survive,” Eric said, “He’s a tough reaper.”

“Glad it's over.” Alan heard his friend let out a small hiss of pain and made his touch even softer. “I hate demons.”

“That's one that won't bother anyone again,” Eric said firmly, and Alan nodded, relieved. 

He finished cleaning the cuts, still wincing at the blood, and motioned for Eric to turn around.  “Let me wash your hair,” he offered.

“Yeah, you’d better do my head,” Eric agreed, ruffling his hair. “I can’t see how bad it is.”

“Oh, it’s nasty,” Alan said with such conviction that his partner laughed, eliciting a smile from the smaller reaper.  “This reminds me of when you opened that pipe under the sink,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and pouring a generous amount of shampoo onto Eric’s head.  “You were covered in slime then too.”

“Dear lord,” Eric chuckled, taking the bar of soap and running it over his arms and chest, avoiding the cuts.  “That was disgusting.” He turned to glance over his shoulder. “What was that- day two of you living here?”

“Something like that,” Alan said, massaging the shampoo into Eric’s hair.  “That was fun.”

“It was, in a gross way,” Eric agreed.  He sighed and leaned his back against the side of the tub, titling his hand back into Alan’s hands.  “That feels really good… I’m just going to fall asleep right here.”

“Okay,” Alan smiled, suddenly very self-conscious about his fingers running over Eric’s scalp and through his partner’s locks.  “I’ll drag it out as long as I can.”

“You’re the best,” came the reply and Alan was glad Eric couldn’t see him blushing.

I _ IIIIII _ I March 27th

Eric and Thom became sort of mini celebrities after the demon incident.  Older reapers congratulated them on doing a dangerous job well and younger reapers would ask what it was like and listen with starry eyes at the retelling of the fight.  Eric, pleased to have an audience, would tell the story grandly, but always finish up with an additive about leaving tangles with demons to the experts. Thom would smile and say it was terrifying and he hopes he never has to do it again.

The reaper was healing nicely, though the two small scars on his left cheek would never go away, but they in no way made him less handsome.

Plenty of the enthralled took the opportunity to flirt with both reapers, which Thom outwardly handled like a pro, gracefully brushing comments away like dust.  However, Alan was sure he saw the reaper in conversation with one of the young women later at lunch, the look on his face akin to schoolboy infatuation.

Eric, on the other hand, was a legitimate professional at flirting and verified heartbreaker at the same time, responding to the flirtations with a smile and respectful comment or two.  Then in the next breath he’d point out Alan on the other side of the room, move to the reaper’s side and sweep the unsuspecting fellow into a dramatic kiss, crushing the hopes and dreams of anyone who’d fallen for the tall reaper’s looks and charm.  This always left Alan blushing, protesting weakly and in a bit of a mess, depending on if he was carrying a cup of tea or not.

It was only little over a week later, after the excitement had died a bit, and Alan and Eric were walking down a hall at work, talking about their assignments for the day when a voice from behind them said,

“Hey, Eric.”

Both reapers turned to see the speaker, a reaper with tanned skin and dark choppy hair, standing behind them.  Alan frowned, trying to place him for a second, and then realized it was Drake, one of Eric’s old friends. He hadn’t met him, not once, and Eric had been extremely hurt over the fact that Drake had been avoiding him.  Apparently, the reaper had been upset over their relationship, which immediately set Alan to become cautious at Drake’s sudden presence.

“Hey,” Eric said, seeming to be just as wary as Alan, and a little protective of the smaller reaper, for he took a step nearer to Alan.

“Glad you’re okay,” Drake said, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “After the demon thing, I mean.”

“Me too,” Eric replied.  His brows drew together, but the reaper’s concern appeared to have relaxed him.  “It’s been a while.”

Drake nodded, his expression one of uncertainty as he said, “Mind if I talk to you?”  He glanced at Alan, who looked back with only the slightest hint of bitterness in his eyes.  “Alone?” he added, motioning to a restroom only a few steps away.

Eric’s eyes went to Alan, then back to Drake.  “Sure,” he agreed. “You can go on,” he said to Alan.  “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

“I’ll wait,” the reaper replied.  “I’ll be right here when you’re done talking.”

“Sure,” Eric said, dropping his bag by the wall, and Alan watched as he followed Drake into the restroom.  Moving to the side of the hall, he leaned against the wall to wait.

In the bathroom, which was conveniently empty, Eric crossed his arms and faced Drake.  “Alright,” he said, aware his tone not very inviting, “What is this. It’s been months since you’ve even looked at me.”

“I know, I know,” Drake replied, “I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

“Ignored?” Eric raised one hand in the air and let it drop again. “You outright avoided me!  I even tried to get Shelia to speak with you and she said you weren’t friendly with her either.”  He shook his head. “The second I started hanging out with Alan you became a jerk. I don’t know what your problem with him is, but if you can’t accept him I can’t consider us being friends again.  Not after whatever the hell this is.”

Drake sighed, looking up at the ceiling. His demeanor was surprisingly calm despite the barrage of words Eric had just thrown at him.  Calm…or resigned? “I don’t…hate Alan. Alright, maybe I did, a little. He was taking you away from the group.”

Eric spread his hands incredulously. “Dude.  I am just as committed to the group. Hell, Shelia and I are best friends again and I freaking  _ broke her heart _ .  I don’t-.”

He cut himself off, brain catching up to his own words and enlightening him to the situation.  Blinking, he let his arms drop to his side. “Do you have a crush on me…?”

Drake crossed his arms, scowling at the floor.  His lack of response was confirmation enough for Eric.  The tall reaper let out a whistle and ran his fingers through his hair, surprise shocking him to silence.  They stood, awkwardly, for a moment in the quiet bathroom, the only sound the dripping of a leaky faucet. The door opened suddenly, a reaper starting to come in, but backed out when he noticed the two and the tension in the air between them.  Finally Drake spoke, his eyes meeting Eric’s at last.

“I was mad at Shelia too, for a little while,” he said, “Because you and her were dating.  But I knew Shelia; if you were going to be with anyone besides me, at least I knew what you were getting into.  But Alan…I didn’t know him. And he is so different from us and it looked like you were going in a whole different direction with him.  I was mad that you were gone too far out of my life for me to have any sort of chance.” The reaper let out a harsh laugh. “But I was the idiot, right?  Maybe if I had said something you would have known and given me a shot. I never opened my damn mouth.”

“I-,” Eric started, but Drake cut him off.

“Nope, I know what you’re going to say.  Something like ‘sorry for your situation but I’m with Alan now’.  Right? Well, that’s fine. That’s okay. I’ve seen you with him, at work or in the lunchroom, and I’ve never seen anyone look so happy before in my life.” His eyes moved away now, off of Eric’s face.  “You’ve got a goddamn angel as your boyfriend and he’s not someone people like us can find in any bar. You’ve managed to get something good and eff me if I’m going to sulk about it any longer.” The reaper took a deep breath. “That’s all I’ve got to say.”

When he was finished, Eric studied him for a long moment, and then a smile slowly crept onto his face.  Not a smirk, not a grin, but a gentle smile that was warm and forgiving. He held out his hand. “I missed you, man,” he said.

Drake returned the smile, relief flooding his face.  He took Eric’s hand and the two reapers hugged briefly, patting each other on the back before separating.  Drake motioned to the door.

“Alan’s probably wondering if we’re having a fist-fight or something.”

“I’d beat you in a second,” Eric replied with a laugh, heading for the exit.  Drake shook his head, punching the tall reaper roughly on the shoulder as they left the restroom.

“You keep telling yourself that!”

Alan pushed away from the wall when they got into the hall and Eric could see the apprehension on his face, unsure what sort of conversation had happened and what the current situation was.  Eric motioned from one reaper to the other.

“You two have never been introduced properly so- Alan, this is Drake West, Drake, this is Alan Humphries.”

Drake held out his hand, uncertain what Alan’s reaction would be, but Eric knew, and his partner did exactly as expected.  Once he saw Eric was on good terms with the other reaper, his stiff posture relaxed, and a smile spread across his face. He took Drake’s hand, shaking it firmly.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” Drake replied.  He turned to Eric, and the tall reaper saw the regret still lingering in his eyes, but it was faded, disappearing into the past.  “See you around?”

“The gang’s meeting at Sully’s Bar later,” Eric replied.  “See you there.”

“You bet,” Drake said.  “I’ve got work; talk to you later!”  He nodded to Alan once before jogging off down the corridor.  When he was gone, the younger reaper faced Eric.

“Everything’s good between you two?”

“Yeah,” Eric said, picking up his and Alan’s bags.  “He had a crush on me.”

“Who doesn’t,” Alan murmured, and Eric stepped to the side, bumping his with his shoulder.

“Too bad for them, but I’m off the market,” he said as they walked.  “Someone stole my heart off the top shelf.”

“I don’t have no intentions of returning it.”  Alan grinned up at him. “Unfortunately, I think you’re stuck with me.”

“Fortunately, you mean,” Eric corrected as they entered the lift.  “Definitely fortunately.”


	56. 2000 hits. THANK YOU

We reached 2000 hits today :)

I never dreamed this fic would get so big, in chapter length and popularity. It's all thanks to you who read it; without you, there'd be no point to writing.

A special 'thank you' to Nicki, who encourages me every day and brings joy to my life. Wouldn't have gotten this far without her.

I appreciate everyone who is still here at chapter 55 of the story and looking forward to the next one. It's an honor and so fun to write about Alan and Eric. There can never be enough love for them.

And it is is an honor to write for you, readers.

Thank you so much.

~TopHatCat


	57. Will and Grell

Grell entered Eric’s office without so much as a knock and sat down on the edge of his desk before leaning in a saying, “Soooo, I hear Drake had a crush on you.”

“And that’s why he was so distant, yes,” Eric said, without glancing up.  “We’re all good now, no gossip today, sorry.”

“There’s always gossip,” Grell corrected him, tapping the top of his head with a long red fingernail.  “If there’s not…you gotta make some happen.”

“Get your ass away from me,” Eric said, pushing her off of the papers he was reading.  “I’m trying to work here.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like my ass when you had it, hon,” Grell smirked, but scooted to the side.  Eric glanced up at that, over the rim of his glasses.

“Past tense, love,” he said, “I’m in a real relationship now.”

“It’s only a relationship if you’ve done _it_ ,” Grell said, then stopped, narrowed her eyes, and squinted at Eric. “Have you two had sex yet?”

Eric put a hand over his eyes.  “You don’t just ask these things, Grell.”

“I do,” the redhead said bluntly.  “Have you?”

Eric glared up at her.  “Not having sex doesn’t mean it’s not a real relationship!”

“I’m blaming your current mood to not having had sex in several months,” Grell stated, then leapt up as Eric’s brows drew together. “Just a friendly observation, darling!”

“Get outta my office,” the other reaper groaned, leaning back in his chair.  Grell put a hand on her hip.

“If you’re not going to be straightforward with me, I’m asking Alan.”

Eric was on his feet in the fraction of a second. “If you ask Alan _anything_ like that, I’m pouring ink in all of your perfume bottles!”

Grell gasped, her hand flying to her chest.  “No!”

“And your nail polish too,” Eric followed up, and Grell screeched.

“You wouldn’t dare, Slingby!”

“Try me, Sutcliff!” came the reply, and a moment later the door flew open and a very angry looking Will peered in.

“It is eleven ‘o’ clock on a workday and there are reapers trying to concentrate!  Either be silent or bring this argument to my office at once!”

“We’re good, right Grell?” Eric glowered at the red reaper, who raised an eyebrow and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“Perfect,” she said, and smiled and winked at him before following Will back into the hall.  Once there, she laughed out loud.  “Eric is-.”

“Don’t want to hear it,” Will cut her off brusquely as he went back to his office.  “Now get back to work before I give you a month’s worth of paperwork.”

“Party pooper,” Grell muttered before flouncing off down the hall, leaving the reapers in the surrounding offices relieved at the return of peace and quiet.

I _IIIIII_ I

“Grell, where do you want these?”

Alan staggered under the weight of the heavy boxes in his arms as he waited for the red reaper’s answer.  Trying to peer around them, he saw Grell poke her head out from her bedroom closet.

“Oh, just set those in the kitchen! I’ll have Will take them to a donation center in London later.”

Alan thought that Will wouldn’t care to haul boxes upon boxes of clothes anywhere, but knowing Grell she’d get him to do it some way or another.  Heading down the stairs to the first level and walking unsteadily into the kitchen, he dropped the cartons unceremoniously in the middle of the floor.  Straightening, he took a breath and stretched his back with a grunt.

Grell had invited him over for tea, which he now suspected was just a cover for getting his help in cleaning the house.  In all honesty, it was just the closet that needed organizing; the rest of the house was stunningly clean.  Some of the rooms were crisp and white, accented by red pillows and trinkets, which were Grell’s touch of course.  Other rooms had wood paneling and oak furniture, which Alan liked very much.  He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at the cleanliness considering Will lived here.

Heading back up to the master bedroom, he knew he would never be able to get his house like this.  Eric was far too messy.  However, he didn’t mind the smallness of their flat.  In contrast, Grell and Will’s place was large, airy and empty.  His and Eric’s flat was home enough.

“How many pairs of shoes do you have?” Alan asked, entering the bedroom again.  He swore Grell had every type of shoe in the world and how they all fit in the walk-in closet was a mystery.

“Not enough, hon,” Grell replied, dropping an armful of shirts onto the bed and going through them, tossing keepers in one pile and out-of-styles in another.  Alan went into the closet, prepared to hang up all the dresses that were scattered and crumpled up on the floor, but something else caught his eye.  Peaking out from under a rack of hanging coats was a wooden chest with old leather straps, and Alan pushed aside the clothes to see it better.

“What’s this, Grell?” he called, and the red reaper appeared in the doorway.

“What’s what?” she asked, and then her gaze fell on the chest. “Oh…that.”

Something in her voice changed, and Alan removed his hands from the lid.  “I don’t have to know,” he apologized, and Grell shook her head, coming to kneel beside him.

“Oh heavens, don’t be sorry,” she said, “Let’s have a look, shall we?”  She undid the buckles holding the straps in place and lifted the top.  Inside were a few smaller cartons, plain and unmarked.  “I haven’t opened this in a while.  I’ve forgotten some of what’s in here.  Take out one of those boxes, would you?”

Alan reached into the chest and picked up the carton on the top.  Setting in on the floor, he sat down beside in and Grell lifted the cover off.

“Photographs,” Alan exclaimed.  He picked one up, small and square, and smiled as he recognized the faces in it.  “This is you and Shelia and Joy.  Goodness, Joy’s hair is so short!”

Grell picked another one up and laughed. “This is when I was so drunk and Will had to come and get me on New Years Eve!”  She handed to Alan who couldn’t help but giggle at the frustrated look on Will’s face in the picture.  He went through some of the others in the box as Grell pulled out the rest of the cartons in the chest.  They were all filled with photographs of different times and places, people and things.

“Did you take these?” Alan marveled at photoshoot-type pictures of Will and Eric and other reapers he did and did not recognize.  “Grell, you have to teach Eric some of your tricks. He loves that camera I gave him, but he could use some pointers.”

“I’d be happy to,” Grell replied, flipping her hair.  “I _am_ pretty brilliant at photography.”

She dove back into the photos of various parties, laughing here and there at memories frozen in time.  Alan opened the fourth box, the oldest looking of them all.  Its cover was stained and the pictures inside were dusty and of worse quality, as if an older camera had taken the shots.  Picking one up, Alan tilted it to the light to see the image better.  The photograph was of Grell and Will, both sitting on a brick wall in what was clearly London.  However, Grell’s hair was shorter, choppy and cut to her earlobes, and she didn’t have glasses.  Will did have spectacles on, but he looked much younger.  They both did.

“Grell,” Alan said, holding out the photo.  The red reaper looked up and took the square of paper, turning it and studying the picture.  As she did, her smile faded and her whole body seemed to close in on itself, as if she was blocking an attack, or perhaps holding something in.  Alan had never seen such a subdued look on the wild reaper and it scared him more than any of her brashness ever had.

“This,” she finally said, her tone low, “Is Will and I a few months after we started dating.”

“You’re both very cute,” Alan said softly, and it seemed the right thing to say for a small smile flashed across Grell’s face.

“Oh, we were darling,” she said, drawing one leg to her chest and resting her chin on her knee.  Her eyes never left the photograph.  “You know…when Will and I met, I was still calling myself ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Alan breathed softly, not wanting to disrupt her chain of thought.  He could tell this was her memories coming forward, and if she wanted, or needed, to speak, he would listen.

“Everyone told me ‘oh, it’s just a phase’ or ‘you’re just confused’ and ‘you’re a boy, you idiot’…”  Grell smiled and tapped the picture. “But Will… He’d been told all his life what he had to be.  He had to go to school, work hard, follow in his father’s footsteps, be a man.  That meant all work and no play.  He understood me… He knew I didn’t want to be confined to this role everyone wanted me to play, because neither did he.  I told him I was a girl and he just nodded and asked if I would like tea and biscuits. We were only twelve and already a gentleman!

“When we started hanging out, it was harder for him than me. I’d been cast as an outsider and knew it, but he was up against his father and the upper-class world he lived in.  But you know Will.  He fought back and we stayed friends and then we were lovers”

Grell sighed. “It was…rough.  He still lived in his father’s world, knowing someday he’d take over the newspaper his father ran.  It was his destiny.  Everyone wanted him to get married, have a family, continue the Spears name.”

The red reaper stopped here, teeth clenching, a drop of blood welling at the corner of her mouth from biting her cheek.  No tears came but her eyes were bright and unfocused.  Alan hardly dared to breathe, waiting.  Then Grell laughed, and it was an awful sound.

“And I got it into my head that he wanted that too.  He secretly despised me and hated being stuck with a boy who thought he was a girl.  Such a person could never give him children, never make a home or be the picture-perfect wife.  What worth did a person like that have?  What was I worth?  I had no right to be his future.  So I took a knife and-.”

Her rant stopped so suddenly that Alan flinched.  Her fingernails had pressed so hard into the photograph that the corner had torn a little and she shifted her grip to hold the two pieces together.

“There was a lot of blood,” she said coldly.  “It was as if I had fallen into an ocean of red and I realized that this is what it had lead to.  All that hardship, this is where I was meant to be all along, and maybe I’d finally learned my lesson.”

More blood dripped down her chin and Alan realized she had been biting her cheek this entire time without feeling the pain.  He wanted to stop her, but she was too far gone now, and he was afraid of her reaction if he spoke or moved.

Grell was shaking her head now but still not a single tear had fallen. “He loved me. He loved me and I left him all alone.  What sort of person does that?  Not a person…a monster does something like that; is so selfish that he drives his lover to such grief that he follows right along after and they’re both damned!”

The sobs had finally begun and Alan was so fearful she would hurt herself that he found it in him to move forward and grip her shoulders.  “Grell, Grell, it’s okay now! You’re alright, Will’s alright!”

“No, no, no,” Grell moaned, clutching the photo to her chest, head bowed, rocking back and forth as she cried.  “My William…I’m sorry.  I’m sorry!”

Helplessness washed over Alan.  He knew exactly what she was going through, but unlike his own relapse, or Eric’s, there was a twinge of insanity, a brokenness that had sliced too deep and long ago twisted something inside too cruelly to ever undo.  Caught between the desire to stay and comfort Grell and the logical plan of getting help, his hesitation lasted long enough for the sound of the front door unlocking to reach his ears.

“Hello,” he called, quiet at first as to not startle Grell, and the louder, “Hello!  Up here!  Please hurry!”

There must have been an acute amount of desperation in his tone, for the footsteps on the stairs were swift and within moments Will was standing in the closet doorway.  Alan looked up, dizzy with relief at the reaper’s arrival.

“Grell, she-, photographs,” he stammered, and Will knelt down beside his love, making Alan move back quickly to allow the two space.  He felt awkward, being there in that intense moment, as he watched Will put his arms around Grell, press his lips to her hair and mutter words of encouragement in her ear.

“Grell, honey,” he said, voice quiet but strong, gentle yet powerful, “I’m here.  We’re together now.  Come on; look at me.”

His fingers pressured her chin, lifting her tear-stained, mascara-smeared face to look at him.  Her eyes were lost, wandering, but focused on his eyes like a beacon in the dark.  A squeak of pain escaped her lips and Will rubbed a thumb across her chin, wiping away the blood.

“Together forever,” he said, his voice firm in the kindest way Alan had ever heard.  He held her, cupping her face in his hands.  “We’re together, Grell.  You’re my queen.”

“Forever,” Grell repeated, swallowing thickly and reaching up with a shaking hand to grasp his arm. “Will…”

“Not a day shorter,” Will replied, eyes flashing as if he dared the world to defy him. Grell let out a shuddering sigh, becoming limp in his grasp, forehead to his chest, hand’s clutching at him as if she was afraid he’d vanish despite the promise.  Will released a breath of his own and glanced over at Alan.

“Would you leave us?”

The reaper nodded, slipping by them at once, feeling liberated of the incident as he left the room.  In the hall, he leaned against the banister, composing himself.  His hands were shaking, he saw, and curled his fingers into fists to stop the trembling.  Heading down the steps he found the phone in the kitchen and rang up Eric, asking if he could be picked up.  He didn’t feel like being by himself on the way home.

He was sitting at the kitchen counter when Will entered.  “Is she alright?” he asked, and the management reaper nodded.

“She will be.”  Will sat down in one of the chairs, loosening his tie around his neck and placing something on the counter.  Alan saw it was the photograph and he folded his hands uncomfortably in his lap.

“I shouldn’t have asked her about the pictures…”

“Don’t even think about blaming yourself,” Will said, taking off his glasses.  “We are reapers, and there is only one way to become what we are.” Cleaning the spectacles on his shirt, he stared sharply down at the photo.  “It would be losing the last of our humanity if we weren’t hurt by the past.”  Putting his glasses back on, the reaper stood again.  “I shouldn’t leave her alone for long.”

Alan didn’t reply, just nodded and breathed and tried to keep his own memories at bay as he sat in the sunny kitchen.  The early April weather was warm and inviting but seemed out of place now.  It felt as if the season should be February, bleak and cold and harsh to match the ever-raw wounds of a grim reaper’s soul.

When Eric pulled into the drive, beeping his horn, Alan was glad to leave the house.  He felt out of place in Will and Grell’s shared experiences, knowing he didn’t belong.  He’d put his coat on long ago and left without saying goodbye, not wanting to disturb the two reapers.

“What’s the matter,” were the first words Eric said when he got into the car.  After buckling his seat belt, Alan covered his face and cried for a good minute before he could put his emotions back in check.  Eric let him cry, sensing this was what he needed, and gently rubbed the reaper’s back until he was finished.

“We found old photographs,” Alan managed to say after a bit, scrubbing away the tears with a handkerchief.  “Very old.”

“Did you get the story?” Eric asked, pulling out of the driveway, and Alan looked at him curiously.

“You know their past?”

“Grell told me a long time ago,” Eric replied as he started down the road.  “I arrived a bit after she and Will did.  Her guilt…” The reaper shook his head, struggling to find the right words.  “She was broken, but when Will got here she went crazy.  We had a thing, mostly because I was the only one who could keep her under control.  But of course, they were in love.  They truly love each other, more than anyone else I’d known, and that drew them back together.”

“It was just meant to be,” Alan said softly, and Eric sighed.

“It may be not perfect, their relationship, but looking at what’s built on, what more can you ask for.  They have what matters and it keeps their bond strong.”

“Why Grell is so...” Alan hesitated. “I mean, she doesn’t mind killing as much as the rest of us.  I don’t understand.”

Eric was silent for a short moment.  “I don’t think it’s that she likes the job. I think when Grell takes a soul she interprets that action as saving the person.  In her mind, by taking a person’s soul like this, she is protecting them from life.  Being alive didn’t do anything good for her, so in her mind, everyone she kills is being protected from the cruelty of living.”

“I…I feel so bad,” Alan whispered, tears falling from his eyes once more.  Eric parked the car on the curb in front of their house put his hand over Alan’s.

“It’s fine to feel bad,” he said, “But don’t dwell on it for long.  Grell will bounce back; she always does.  She’s a strong one.”

“And she has Will,” Alan added, more to comfort himself than to inform Eric of the fact.  “Like I have you.”

“Yeah,” the tall reaper said, his hand squeezing Alan’s comfortingly.  Neither one made to get out of the car and they remained in place, watching the sun set behind the buildings.  Only when it became chilly did they finally head inside.


	58. On the Edge

The smell of wet soil and sweet pollen filled Alan’s nose as he clipped the last dead flower from the giant rhododendron bush that flourished at the corner of the house.  Dropping the dead blossom into the bucket at his feet, Alan stepped back, gauging his work to make sure there were no last flowers that needed to be removed. Satisfied he had gotten them, he picked up the bucket and went to the middle of the front yard where a wheelbarrow sat, filled with dead leaves, sticks and unfortunate plants that hadn’t survived the winter.

The garden wasn’t as full of color has it would be over the next months, but the daffodils were blossoming and the rose bushes were green and healthy looking.  The bulbs planted in October were pushing up pale green through the soil.

“Where do you want the rest of this?” Eric asked, motioning to the leftover mulch he had been spreading around the rose bushes and other larger plants.

“Just put it wherever weeds are poking up,” Alan replied, dumping the contents of his bucket into the wheelbarrow.  “Did you check the lemongrass for rotting around the base?”

“First thing I did,” Eric replied, shoveling the rest of the mulch onto various flower beds. “All clear of brown stems and slimy roots.”

That was good news.  Alan liked having the grass to flavor various recipes and his jar of it, dried, was almost empty.  Putting his hands on his lower back and arching it to relieve the stress of bending over, he surveyed the yard.  Everything was coming a long nicely and there was even room to spare, where the annuals had died over winter.  He heard Eric drop the shovel, the handle thumping to the ground, and the tall reaper came to stand behind him.

“Looking good,” he said, hands on hips.  “You’re a miracle worker with plants.”

“I’m going to see if I can get honeysuckle and hops to climb up the walls to the balcony” Alan said, sweeping his arm in the path his mind envisioned for the vines.  “I talked with Hayze and he said as long as they don’t cover the windows I can do whatever I like.”

“Hey, aren’t hops what beer is made from?” Eric asked, sliding his arms around Alan’s waist and squeezing him teasingly.  He tucked his head on Alan’s shoulder, under the wide brim of his gardening hat. “Maybe we could start a brewery.”

“No way,” Alan laughed, gripping Eric’s dirt-stained hands with his own.  “Do you know how much work that would be?”

“Alright, alright,” Eric conceded, “Just a pot still then. You know, one of those little home-brewery contraptions.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best plan you’ve had,” Alan said, patting Eric’s on the cheek.  The tall reaper laughed and gave Alan an extra squeeze before drawing back.

“I have to go shower.  I’ve got that party tonight.  One of Joy’s friends got promoted to second level reaper and you know them; they’ll take anything as an excuse to go out and drink all night.”

Alan shook his head but he was smiling.  Their friends still confused and exasperated him at times, but he’d gotten somewhat used to the foreign idea of going out for hours of fun late at night.  “Well, be careful and have fun,” he said, and Eric grinned.

“Having fun is a promise I can keep for sure!”

Eric went inside and Alan was left trying to decide where to put the strawberries.  Half an hour later Eric appeared on the balcony, hair wet and it fresh clothes.  He leaned on the rail, watching as Alan walked in small circles by the fence.

“What are you doing?” he called down, and the other reaper looked upwards.

“Should I put wisterias in arch over the gate?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” was Eric’s reply.

“They’re purple and look sort of like hanging clusters of grapes, but they’re flowers,” Alan answered, rubbing his chin as he studied the spot.  “I’d need to get a trellis…”

“I think it’d look great.”  Eric pushed away from the rail. “I’m leaving in a few moments.”

Alan glanced up again and nodded. “See you when you get down here.”

When Eric did finally leave the house, Alan had two rows for strawberries already dug.  The tall reaper went to the edge of the bed and Alan sat back on his heels, pushing his hat up on his head.

“Do you know when you’ll be home?”

“Late,” Eric replied, “You can go to bed.  I’m stopping by Joy’s place and taking her bike just in case I drink a bit more than is safe for driving.”

Rising to his feet, Alan stepped over the rows of lavender so he was standing in front of Eric.  “If you smell like beer, I’m going to have to ask you to take the other bed.”

“What if I want to cuddle?” Eric asked with a grin, and Alan flushed as the tall reaper put hands on his waist.

“I’m going to get you all grubby again,” he warned, “And you just showered,” but Eric simply responded by drawing him closer.

“It’s just a bit of mud,” the tall reaper said nonchalantly, “Besides, you’re cute when you have dirt on your nose.”

Alan’s hand flew up and Eric chuckled, stopping him from any sort of attempt to clean his face by kissing him on the lips.  Alan accepted the kiss, moving closer despite his previous cautions about dirt, and pressed his palms to his partner’s chest.  Eric’s collar was open, a few more buttons undone than usual, and Alan could feel his skin through the gap.  His brain surpassed any formal boundaries, keenly speculating what it would be like to touch every inch of Eric’s skin.

As his head wandered, Eric’s hands moved down from his waist and around, pressuring against the small of Alan’s back and millimeters above his tailbone.  The smaller reaper reacted, a ghostly needle-like sensation running up and down his spine and all over his body.  Suddenly he felt like he was on the edge of something big, though what is was he didn't quite know or understand.  He broke the kiss for lack of air, eyes still closed.  Whatever this may be, it was wonderful, yet absolutely terrifying at the same time, and Alan shivered at the passion of it.

And then Eric was drawing back, leaving Alan’s mind and body confused at the sudden distant feel of the tall reaper’s touch.  When he looked up, Eric’s eyes were deep and intense, a breathtaking sight, but his posture had become calm and collected.

 _‘Did he mistake my shudder for fear?’_  Alan wondered, distraught.  _‘I was scared, but not enough to let it end!’_

“I’d better be off,” Eric said, and Alan could hear the disappointment in his voice.  His hands fell from Alan’s waist and he stepped to the side, moving around the reaper toward the gate.  “See you later then.”  

 _‘Wait,’_ said Alan’s mind, but the thought wouldn’t form into a word his mouth could speak, so he just replied with, “Goodbye,” and then cursed his foolish brain as Eric headed off down the sidewalk.  Sinking down to his knees in the grass, he looked blankly at the skinny green stems, not really seeing them, and tried not to imagine where the night may have gone had he just stopped Eric from walking out the gate.

I _IIIIII_ I

Grell stirred her drink with the straw, resting her cheek on her hand and making a face Eric supposed could be called thoughtful.

“So….” The red reaper said, drawing out the word, “You’ve already got him emotionally and now you want him sexually?  Is that what you’re trying to tell me through a mix of confusing sentences?”

Eric nodded, relieved she understood what he was attempting to say.  “Well yeah, I guess that’s about right,” he said, taking a swig of his drink.  Everything was better sorted after a drink or two, and he guessed this would be an ‘or two’ situation.

“So tell him,” Grell said flatly.  “I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to have sex with a hunk like you.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Eric said dryly, “but I can’t just go up to him and say ‘hey, I want to have a sex with you.”  The reaper rolled his eyes.  “Seriously.”

“Why not?” Grell asked with a shrug.  “That’s pretty much what I said to Will.  I mean, there was a lot of seductive behavior beforehand, but it all led to the same thing.”

Eric groaned.  “Because he’s _Alan_.  He’s not like you and me, Grell.”

Now it was Grell’s turn to lift her eyes to the ceiling and back. “I understand, Eric.  I know a virgin when I see one.”

“Wonderful,” he said dully, and picked up his glass.  “I’m getting us another round.”

“Plenty of tequila for me!” the red reaper grinned, shaking her mostly empty glass, and Eric flashed a smile before moving to the bar.  Leaning on the counter he ordered their drinks.  As he payed, Shelia sauntered over, resting her elbows on the wood beside him.

“Hey,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the three drinks the bartender set before him, “All of those yours?”

“Only two of them,” he answered, and the other reaper pursed her lips.

“I don’t judge, but usually you drink one at a time.”

“Can’t get drunk fast enough that way,” Eric laughed, picking up the beverages.  “I thought you were doing a shots contest with Drake?”

“I let Joy do it instead.  She can hold her alcohol better than me anyway.”  Shelia tailed him back to the table, weaving her way through others in the tavern.  As Eric set the glasses down, Shelia turned to Grell.

“What’s his deal?”

“He’s afraid to take his relationship to the next level,” Grell informed her shamelessly, picking up the drink that had been brought to her.  Shelia looked back at Eric, who shrugged.

“Is it that odd?  I don’t think Alan’s ready.”

“It’s not odd,” Shelia said, taking a seat next to him.  “I think you’ll both know when it’s the right time to move forward.”

“I hope so,” Eric muttered, and raised his glass. “Let’s shut up about it for now and just drink.”

“Cheers to that!” Grell crowed, lifting her own beverage, and Shelia did the same.

“Alright,” she said, her eyes still trained on Eric, “Let’s drink.”


	59. Alan's Past: Real Version. Important to the story! Please read

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, here's a weird chapter. A long time ago in chapter 20, I wrote about Alan's past life as a human. I never really liked that version, so I've rewritten it. This chapter is Alan's past rewritten. It takes place right after Alan has taken his test, just as the previous version did. I've also changed chapter 20 so it now tells this story.   
> PLEASE READ THIS as it is important later when the Thorns of Death arrive. I will be referencing it. Thank you and sorry for the confusion.

PLEASE READ NOTES.

Eric was about to leave when Alan’s hand slid across the blankets until it found Eric’s and his fingers wrapped around the older reaper’s hand.  In the small movement Eric felt the pain still pounding inside Alan, the same fast tempo as his heartbeat.  He turned his hand so Alan’s rested in his palm.

“What is it?” he asked.

Alan let out a shaky breath.  “I had a dream.  That’s why I woke up.”

“A dream?  Just a dream?”

“A nightmare,” came the correction and Eric’s guess was confirmed.

“It’s just in your head,” Eric said, though he knew what Alan was feeling. “It’s not real.”

“But it was.  It happened… didn’t it?”

Eric sighed.  “Yes.”

“I want to tell you about it.”

He had not expected that.  “You don’t have to-.”

“I want to!”

“Alright,” Eric said.  “I’m listening.”

When Alan began, his voice was faltering, as if the memories were ones he had cast away and now had to recollect bit by bit.  His tone was low, but clear and willing to tell the story.

“I grew up in a good home, money wise.  A maid, a gardener…but that wasn’t important.  I was young and thought only of my family.  My father…he designed buildings, ans could draw the most wonderful things.  He’d show me, sometimes, how to use a pencil and make the image come to life.

“‘I draw buildings all the time, Alan,’ he’d say.  “Let’s draw something else, eh?  The cats, perhaps? How about your mother in the garden that you love so very much?’

“That always made me smile, when he talked of drawing the garden.  Mother and I loved that garden to no end. She’s the one who taught me everything about flowers, you know.  Which ones grow best in July, how to save the seeds, the language of them… My sisters were never interested in that, but they would follow me along everywhere else, with bright eyes, especially when they were small.  They loved to cook, so the three of us would often make meals, which our parents would praise us for, even if it was just sandwiches. They were all so silly…”

Eric didn’t make a sound, but his heart ached at the loving tone in Alan’s voice as he spoke of his family.  He knew many reapers whose unloving families were the cause of their deaths.  Eric wished he could recall his past and remember love and affection as Alan did.

“But, you know, things don’t last,” Alan said, still not looking at Eric.  “And…and I got sick.”

Eric heard the way his voice changed.  No longer was it warm and affectionate; fear had tainted it now, fear and regret.  Alan’s hand shook a bit, as if his body was recalling whatever had ailed it in the past.

“I’d never been the healthiest person,” the small reaper whispered.  “But this time, they didn’t know what to do.  No one did, not even the most expensive, well-taught doctors my parents could find.  They all sighed and shook their heads, dismissing my condition as a mystery never to be solved.  Nothing my parents tried worked, and I got weaker and sicker until I could hardly leave my bed.  No more school, no more walks with my sisters…”  Alan closed his eyes for a moment, taking in a trembling breath.  “Oh, my sisters… they didn’t care if I was in or out of bed.  They would run into my room, telling me of what the neighbors were doing, and what the weather was, although I had a window.  Mother read to me when I couldn’t gather the strength to even hold a book.  Father often carried me out to the garden so I could be with the flowers and feel the sun…and even then, as I was wasting away, I was surrounded by happiness.”

Alan bit his lip, his fingers curled, and Eric moved only to pressure his hand slightly in comfort.

“A friend came from the center of London one day, to tell us there was trouble in the city.  A number of gangs had started fights and there were constant robberies and deaths.  But that was deep in the city.  We thought we were safe.  We were far from the violence and the people, and father only worked away from home a few times a week.  It wasn’t really all that bad…”

Eric could feel the ‘then’ coming.  There was always a ‘then’ in reaper stories.

Alan turned his head and looked at Eric, his eyes wide but still dry, as if he was trying not to listen to his own words.  “Then…”

His voice trailed off and Eric wasn’t sure what to do.  To speak would break the story, but perhaps that’s what Alan needed.  Eric squeezed the reaper’s hand.

“Hey…”

“Then, one night, it happened,” Alan said quickly.  “What we all thought never would.  It was late, and everyone was asleep.  I slept lightly those days, so when the front door opened, I heard it, even from up in my room.  The hinges squeaked, you see….  It was so late, and I knew no one had gone out, so I was confused. Perhaps a friend had come, needing help.  There was a bell beside my bed, so I could call for someone if I needed it.  It was small and silver and I rang it…”

Alan’s eyes were misty now; he sat up, his fingers clutching Eric’s hand tightly, and he swallowed, taking a deep breath.

“I made a mistake,” Alan whispered.  “They were robbers, not anyone we knew, and my parents were wakened by me, so they got up.  They must have seen the criminals over the banister, for my father began shouting.  At this point…I had no idea what was going on, but I was terrified.  Father kept talking, telling them to leave, to go before he notified the police…”

Alan’s voice had dropped so low now that Eric strained to hear the words.

“There was a bang so loud I felt it in my heart.  Father stopped shouting and I could hear Mother’s screams.  She cried my sisters’ names several times and then suddenly she was in my room, rushing to my side and telling me to get under the covers and don’t make a sound.  It was too late though. One of the robbers came into the room and Mother turned, and even in the sparse moonlight I remember…she was so beautiful.”

Alan’s voice cracked as tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he clenched his teeth together, eyes shut tight.  Eric was cold and silent, waiting.

“She held her arms out, to beg…to protect me,” the younger reaper said.  “All she cared about was me… Then she was gone.  There was a bang and she was gone…”

Alan was shivering now, and his nails dug sharply into Eric’s skin, both hands now gripping the tall reaper’s hand.  His voice was thick and every word was rough and forced.

 “I don’t remember the sounds of my screams, but I know I must have made some sound for the man seemed startled, like he hadn’t even known I was there.  Though I could hardly move, I dragged myself out of bed and I held her so tightly…but she was already gone.  I didn’t even care that the man was right there. Something was ripping my heart out of my chest and her blood was all over my nightshirt.  No one could do anything to me worse than what had already been done…”

Alan choked on his tears and coughed, pausing in his story.  Eric’s whole body felt like it was on fire and he gritted his teeth, willing his own tears not to fall as he watched Alan struggle to talk.

“He just left me!  I wasn’t a threat, I wasn’t important, and they just left the house.  It was so quiet… Everything was silent but for my sobs.  I held my mother and begged for her to speak to me but she couldn’t, not anymore.  No one in the house could…

“And then all at once I woke up and I was in bed again and there were people everywhere.  A neighbor came by me, saying she’d come that morning and found everyone.  She said one of the gangs came through this way and had stolen from nearly every house along the road.  Ours was the only one where the inhabitants had woken up….  I just nodded.  She seemed confused at my silent behavior but left, telling me to call her if I needed anything.

“I suppose I was confused too, at first…” Alan said, his voice suddenly calm.  “I just knew that I was alone.  I didn’t have to ring that bell.  If I hadn’t, no one would have woken.  My sisters would have been coming in any moment with a breakfast try they made up themselves.  But they were dead.  My mother was dead. My father was dead.  I was the only one left.”

Eric’s spine tingled at the way Alan spoke of his family’s deaths; as if he who wished never to see death again had suddenly embraced the notion, even cherished it.  The reaper’s hands slid from Eric’s and Alan looked around the room, his eyes falling on the dresser drawers.

“There was a set of drawers in the room, wasn’t there?  Yes, there was one and on top of it was a collection of bottles.  My medications.  I hurt so much but I got out of bed and took up one of the bottles of pain pills.  One of the policemen came in then and asked if I was alright being out of bed.

“‘Could you take me to the garden, please?’ I asked, and he obliged, helping me down the steps to the yard.  ‘I’d like a moment alone,’ I said, and he nodded and retreated, telling me if I needed anything, to just ask.  Once he was gone, I opened my hand to reveal the bottle.  I took one and it worked, a little.  My head stopped hurting, but my heart wasn’t fixed.  One more didn’t help that either, and two more only stopped it a bit.  When the bottle was empty I felt so much better and it was almost like I couldn’t feel anything at all.”

Alan glanced up at Eric, who couldn’t help it; his face was twisted in a grimace of pain, tears welling in his eyes.  The smaller reaper blinked quickly, touching Eric’s knee.

“I though… this must be what peace is like, right?  Silent, with no feeling at all?  Surrounded by all the wonderful flowers, in the sun, butterflies dancing over the blossoms likes faeries… Nothing sounded better than that.  I thought that death must be so nice, just like this…. I lay on the grass, and the world got all fuzzy and the flowers waved goodbye to me in the sweetest way, so I closed my eyes and let myself go…”

Alan’s voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands, unconsciously twisting the bedsheets.  Eric bit the inside of his lip till it bled and the silence grew until Alan’s shoulders began to shake again.

“Eric… I-I n-need, I need…”

He reached out and Eric didn’t hesitate to move forward, pulling Alan into his arms.  “What is it?  What do you need?”

Alan gripped Eric’s shirt, taking deep breaths. “I need you to stay.  Don’t ever leave.  I don’t want to be alone like that ever again.  So just… don’t go away, okay?”

Eric’s tears dripped off cheeks, falling into Alan’s hair, and he struggled to keep his voice steady.  “You don’t have to worry about a thing,” he answered, gently stroking Alan’s back, his hand running over the taunt muscles.  “I’m here to stay, got it?”

Alan nodded, his forehead bumping against Eric’s chest.  “Okay...” he whispered.  “Got it.”


	60. Red Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :) :)

Alan wasn’t sure what time it was when the phone rang.  After the first few rings, he lifted his eyes, trying to battle his way through the haze of sleep as he turned on the lamp.

“What time is it?” he groaned, fumbling for the clock.  Blearily trying to focus on the hands, he groaned again when he saw they read three twenty-six am.  Tossing back the covers sent Potato jumping off the bed, while Blossom just let the blankets smother him.  Alan swung his legs off the mattress and stumbled to the door.  By the time he reached the kitchen he was more awake, shocked to consciousness by the coldness of the floor under his bare feet.  Picking the receiver up on the last ring, he said, “Hello?” in the clearest voice he could manage.

“Hey, Alan,” came the reply, “It’s Shelia.”

Alan snapped awake at that. “Shelia?  Is something wrong?  Is Eric okay?”

“Oh no, he’s fine,” the reaper was quick to assure him, and Alan sighed. “It’s just that…. well, he could kinda use a pick-up.”

“What do you mean?” Alan asked with a frown.  “Didn’t he take Joy’s bike?”

“Yeah… About that.”  Shelia sounded a bit sheepish.  “See, the bike sort of got stolen and the only other transportation is Grell’s car but it doesn’t seat more than five.  And you’re the only one with a vehicle who would actually come, so…”

Alan let out a long, tired breath.  “I gotcha…”  Rubbing his eyes, he nodded, then remembered she couldn’t actually see him. “I’ll come and get him.  Just tell me where you are.”

Ten minutes later he was dressed and starting Eric’s car.  Luckily, he had driven it a few times before, so he knew what he was doing, but he’d never gone out at night.  After adjusting the seat and mirrors, he flipped on the headlights and he pulled away from the curb.

The Pathway was grim and misty as usual, but in the night it was even more unsettling.  He’d only ever rode with Eric in such darkness, and his fingers turned white around the steering wheel.  Nothing jumped out of the shadows at him, however, and he made it out with only a little sweat beaded on his brow.

The place Shelia had named was on the edge of town, far enough out he could take the car all the way, and when he pulled up behind the building, Alan recognized it as a café he’d frequented a number of times before.  After parking, he circled the establishment and entered through the front door.  Inside was softly lit, with no patrons but Eric and Shelia.  Going to their table, he stopped beside it and crossed his arms.

Eric looked up at him sheepishly.  “Hey…Sorry to make you get up.”

Alan’s mouth quirked, but he only shook his head.  “It’s not your fault the bike was stolen.”  He turned to Shelia.  “Where’s your ride?”

“Eric and I walked here, so the others will pick me up shortly,” the reaper answered.  She motioned to Eric, and the coffee cups and odd piles of bread in front of him.  “He didn’t want to be overly drunk when you arrived.”

“I appreciate that, at the least,” Alan said with his third sigh of the night.  “Well, we’d better get on home.  If you’re ready.”

“I am,” Eric replied quickly, rising to his feet.  Looking to Shelia he said, “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Bye, you two,” the reaper said with a dismissive wave of her hand.  “Good luck.”  Eric glanced at Alan, who just raised his eyebrows and started for the door.

“I hope he doesn’t kill me,” Eric muttered to Shelia, who only smiled, before he followed the smaller reaper out the door.

In the car, Alan waited for Eric to slide in and buckle up before starting the engine.  Stepping on the gas, he pulled away from the café and toward the reaper city.  They sat in a silence that grew steadily more uncomfortable with each passing second until Eric squeaked out,

“You’re cute when you’re angry.”

Alan let out a breath and looked incredulously over at the tall reaper. “You just couldn’t stop yourself from saying that, could you!”

“What?” Eric said, jumping back so he was pressed against the door of the car.  “It’s true!”

Alan couldn’t come up with any comeback in a relevant amount of time, so he settled for drawing back his fist and punching Eric squarely in the arm.  The reaction was a lot more exclamatory than expected, and he glanced over, exasperated.

“It can’t have hurt that much, Eric.”

The tall reaper was rubbing his left arm, which only made Alan confused.  “Ah, you made me bump it against the door handle,” Eric moaned.  Alan tried to focus on the road and his partner at the same time, annoyed at the show.

“Honestly,” he replied. “You think _my_ punch could push you hard enough to be painful?”

Eric opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally said, “I…I may have gotten a tattoo.”

At that, Alan really did almost swerve off the path.  “A-, a what?”

Eric started undoing his shirt buttons, and images of sexy women, skulls, and hearts with arrows in them flashed through Alan’s brain.  He almost dreaded it, and felt a stab of selfish pity that Eric had ruined his skin with a drawing that had probably been a drunken decision.  However, when he looked over again, it was his heart that reacted, not his head.

Eric had pulled his shirtsleeve almost all the way down and twisted his body to reveal his whole upper arm.  Just above his biceps, done in a deep brilliant red, was a rose.  From around the blossom grew vines and leaves, curling and twisting across the skin in dark green tendrils.  They wound up, over his shoulder to just brush his collarbone, and down, the last leaf tickling right above his elbow.

“Wow,” Alan breathed, staring at the ink, and Eric reached over suddenly, gripping the wheel.

“Careful!”

Alan quickly straightened the car, coming back to the moment, and when he had calmed down a bit, risked another glance.  “You got it all tonight?” he marveled.

Eric flexed his arm, wincing a bit.  “Yeah.  The guy who did it must have thought I was crazy or on some sort of medications.  Little does he know a reaper’s tolerance is pretty impressive.”  He chuckled. “Also, little does he know reapers are even real…”  Eric’s eyes lifted to Alan’s face, and his voice was hesitant, like he was worried.  “What…what do you think of it?”

Alan looked to the road.  They were just entering the Pathway now, but it didn’t put a pit of unease in his stomach as it hand before.  The car was at a crawl, moving through the fog, and he lifted a hand from the wheel.  Reaching over, he gently brushed his fingertips down the art on Eric’s skin, almost surprised when it wasn’t a real flower under his hand.

“I love it,” he said softly, and could feel Eric’s entire body relax at the words, like the approval was all he had wanted the entire time.  “I love it…”

I _IIIIII_ I

Upon arriving home, Eric’s mood had only gone up.  Alan wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or not, but he blamed the coffee for sure.  Getting into the house, he declared he was going back to bed and Eric could eat anything he wanted as long as he was quiet.

However, no matter how he tried, he just couldn’t fall asleep, and when Eric finally came into the bedroom, it was five ‘o’ clock and Alan wasn’t tired in the slightest.

“Let’s see that tattoo again,” he said when Eric had climbed into the bed.  The light was still on, so he could see the tall reaper’s face, his t-shirt and boxers, his hair, so messy and yet still so perfect.

Eric turned his arm so the reaper could look at the ink, properly this time.  Alan trailed the vines with his finger, tracing the swirls of green.  It really was beautiful.  Leaning back, he raised his eyes to Eric’s face. “Talk to me,” he said, “Tell me about tonight.”

“Okay,” the tall reaper said with a smile.  “There was singing.  Shelia’s got a voice of an angel, if you don’t already know.”

Alan listened quietly as Eric prattled on, drifting into a state of coziness; not quite asleep, but not focused on any particular thing.  His fingers still rested on the rose tattoo and in his dazed state it almost looked like there was a real flower on the other reaper’s arm.

 _‘Love.…’_  he thought sleepily.  Eric’s hand was resting comfortably on his leg and he felt like he could just lay there forever with the other reaper’s voice rolling over him like waves. _‘That’s what a red rose means…true love….’_

He woke up a bit when Eric leaned over to kiss his nose.  Stretching the arm that had been folded under his head, he smiled.

“Are you ready to turn the light off?”

“I don’t know,” Eric said, still leaning slightly over him. “I like watching you doze.”

“Am I drooling?”

Eric chuckled. “No… But even if you were, I’d still think you were gorgeous.”

Alan blushed, lifting a hand to push the blond hair out of his partner’s eyes.  “Good… I don’t want to be with a guy who’s super picky.”

“Oh, I am picky,” Eric said, tilting his head down to kiss Alan’s cheek.  “I only like flowers named Alan.” 

The movement pushed the tall reaper’s elbow deeper into the mattress, causing Alan to shift slightly toward him on the bed.  Eric’s hand, on no one’s accord but fate’s, slid up along the smaller reaper’s leg, coming to a rest at a place high on his inner thigh.

Both froze, eyes locked as they grasped the suggestive position of Eric’s hand.  The heartbeat of time stretched forever, trapped in the green of their eyes as they held onto each other in the moment of indecision and consequence.

Then Eric moved, made to withdraw his palm from the fabric that separated their skin, but Alan stopped him.  The tall reaper let out a very soft breath as Alan’s fingers pressured gently down, keeping his hand in place.

“Do you want to do this?” he asked, his tone so concerned, so sweet, it made tears jump to Alan’s eyes.  “We don’t have to.”

Alan swallowed, the only sign of his uncertainty.  “I know we don’t,” he whispered, and carefully released Eric’s hand. 

“Keep going.”

There was no hesitation in Eric after that.  His hand skipped upward to Alan’s hip, to his waist, pushing the cloth of the pajama shirt up to spread his fingers over the reaper’s stomach.  His mouth met Alan’s, trying to trap any fear in the familiar gesture, but in this moment even the kiss was somehow recognizable and completely foreign at the same time.

Alan understood now there was a part of Eric he had never seen.  It was fierce and powerful, hungry and passion-driven, still accented by caring touches and sweet whispers in his ear that softened the wild rush of desire.  He was almost overwhelmed by the suddenness of it; the feelings, physical and emotional alike, that were surging over and through him so abruptly they made his head buzz.  It wasn’t long before their clothes were completely cast aside.

Eric knew things, wonderful things: how to use his hands and mouth and what to do to make Alan want more of everything.  He’d never felt like this before, never been touched or held in such way, and he didn’t quite know what to think.  Not that he could think about much of anything; his mind was a hazy mess at the moment.  He could feel so much it nearly hurt, but Eric was so very careful with him, even now, especially now.  The smaller reaper let out short breaths, hands gripping the sheets, and felt himself slipping on the edge of something deep and mysterious, and there was uncertainty.

His arms wrapped around Eric’s neck, desperately needing something solid to hold onto, and Eric drew back from kissing his neck to look into his face.

“Alright?”

Alan nodded, trying to breathe evenly enough to speak.  “Am I...”  His gaze moved away, eyelids lowered, too shy to meet Eric’s gaze now.  “Am I okay?”

A smile spread over Eric’s face.  Not a smirk or charismatic grin, but the kindest sort of smile the tall reaper could give.  Bending over, he pressed his lips to his lover’s chest, tenderly kissing the warm pale skin.

“You’re perfect,” Eric murmured.  “Absolutely perfect.”  Moving downward, his mouth touched just below Alan’s ribcage before he looked up again.  “Don’t ever think you’re not.”

The smaller reaper lifted his shoulders shyly, hot and flushed from all Eric was doing, and he nodded.  He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t have to speak at all.  It was enough that they were together, closer, loving each other in a way that there were no words that needed to be said.


	61. Morning After

Eric’s alarm rang loud and impatiently at nine ‘o’ clock sharp and the tall reaper rolled over onto his back, slamming a hand on the clock to stop the noise.  A last ring escaped the machine and the bedroom became quiet again.  Eric was prepared to let himself fall back into sleep, certain Alan would be there in roughly ten minutes to get him up for the day, but then the events of last night came flying back into his brain in fragments that quickly assembled themselves into a very clear memory.

Rubbing his eyes, Eric turned his head to check the left side of the bed.  His gaze landed on a pale back, spotted with a few freckles here and there, a shoulder sloping down into slender silhouette that vanished under the sheets, and a mess of dark hair on the pillow.  Alan’s back rose and fell slowly, indicating he was still deeply asleep.

Looking over at his partner, Eric’s heart swelled in a way he’d never experienced after such intimacy.  This hadn’t been just for pleasure, this was something else: there was an emotional difference in the air he hadn’t experienced before.  Stretching his arms over his head, he then pushed back the covers, slowly so as not to disturb Alan, and got out of bed.  A lightheaded, floating sensation stayed with the tall reaper as he gathered up his clothes and headed into the bathroom to wash up and change for work. 

No matter how emotionally happy he was, his basic human nature was still very obvious, and he couldn’t help but pump his fist a few times in euphoria and grin at himself in the mirror.

“That was good; admit it,” he said to his reflection.  Snapping his fingers, he pointed at himself and winked. “You still got it.  Keep dishing it out, man.  Be the best guy you’ve ever been and do it for Alan.”

When he’d gotten over his high, mostly, he took a quick shower, put his work clothes on and headed back into the bedroom.  Alan was still asleep, curled up on his side.  The cats had entered the room, presumably hearing Eric’s movement, and were sitting on the bed as well.  Potato stepped up onto Alan’s legs as Eric approached the bed and he shooed her away.

“Let him sleep,” he whispered.  Bending over, he planted a very soft kiss on Alan’s head before leaving the room to grab a cup of tea before work.

I _IIIIII_ I

Alan woke up much faster, his brain tossing away any lingering dream fluff the moment he was conscious.  It didn’t take him more than a second or two to remember the night before and he groaned, acutely aware of the soreness of his body.  Pushing himself up on his elbow, he rubbed his eyes and looked over his shoulder, but the right side of the bed was empty.  Reaching over, he placed his hand on the dip that remained in the mattress.  It was cold, which meant Eric had gone a while ago.

 _‘Of course; he’s got work,’_ Alan remembered, and his heart jumped as he wondered if he had forgotten about his own retrievals, but his schedule quickly came to mind, assuring him he had nothing to do until the afternoon.  Reassured he hadn’t slacked off on anything, he settled back down to the sheets.  The clock read eleven fifteen, and he marveled at how late he’d slept; it was quite unusual for him to remain in bed this far into the morning.

Rolling onto his back, he almost squished Blossom, who was snuggled behind his knees.  The cat stretched, lifting his fluffy head over the blankets, and Alan scratched behind his ears.

It was quite surreal, to be waking up like this.  Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d opened his eyes after sleeping in this bed, but it was undoubtedly a different experience this time ‘round.  Butterflies took flight in his stomach, sending a fluttery sensation throughout his entire body.

 _‘This is…’_ He searched for the right word to describe what he was feeling, but none to seemed up to the task.  In comparison to what his heart felt, words seemed dull and bland, unable to define the emotions.

“Magical, perhaps,” he said out loud, “But not a fantasy…something incredibly real.”

The feel of Eric’s hands still lingered, as if the tall reaper had left imprints on his skin.  How long would that last?  A few hours longer?  A few moments?  …Could he ask Eric to make him feel this way again?  The idea sent prickles up and down his entire body.  It was exciting and strange at the same time, but thinking of the future in such a way was unusual enough to make Alan push the thought away along with the blankets.

Opening his shirt drawer, he began searching for a top, but before he could find one, his eyes went to Eric’s pajama shirt lying on the floor.  Walking over, the reaper picked it up.  It was far bigger than anything he usually wore, but he slipped it over his head anyway.  He typically got himself properly dressed in the morning, but maybe he could allow himself to care a little less, just this once.  Besides, it smelled like Eric and made him feel good inside.

A cup of tea was calling his name, so Alan went to the kitchen to make a pot of water and start breakfast.  He wasn’t all that hungry at the moment, but Eric would undoubtedly be ‘starving’ upon returning home.

Lifting his hand to his face, Alan found his cheeks were warm, and scolded himself for blushing at even the idea of Eric.  As the tea water heated, he took a watering can from under the sink and filled it with water for the flowers around the house.

 _‘You need to get a grip on the situation,’_ he told himself on the watering trip around the flat.  The pink tulips were worryingly dry, so he gave them an extra few ounces of the cool liquid before moving on to the balcony.  The flowers there were open and glowing with color in the sunlight, their heads bobbing gently in the slight breeze that danced between the buildings and down the street.  The robins were back, fixing up the remains of their nest from last year, and Alan watched them as he watered.  The two birds were busy, hopping here and there, poking sticks, grass and feathers into what would be their home over the summer, careful to make it strong and steady for the babies they would raise.

“Good morning,” Alan said to them, and they looked over, heads turning curiously at his voice, but didn’t fly away.  Their task was more important and soon they deemed Alan harmless and continued their work.  Alan’s eyes followed them until he felt something cold around his foot and looked down to see he had been filling a pot so much it drained out of the bottom to create a small stream that wound over the wood to drip off the edge of the balcony.

“Oh gosh,” he said, quickly tilting the can back to stop the fall of water.  With a sigh, he studied the waterlogged dirt around the plant.  “That will have to be repotted…”

At that moment the teapot started to whistle, making Alan start.  He set the watering can down and hurried back into the house.  Reaching the stove, he turned the flames off and started to pick the pot up but then yelped as the handle singed his fingers.  Blowing on the hot skin, he shook his head at himself.

_‘Goodness!  You’re quite out of it all today, aren’t you, Alan?’_

His blue teacup was in it’s place in the cabinet, and he took it out, checking inside for any spiders.  The little creatures sometimes liked to hide in the cupboards and after Eric had almost swallowed one, they double-checked the cups before using them.

The reaper was about to reach for the tea when a jovial, “Afternoon!” came from directly behind him.  Letting out a startled yelp, Alan jumped and dropped his teacup.  In a flash, Eric had his hand under the cup, stopping it before it could shatter to the floor.

Alan let out a sigh, leaning against the edge of the counter. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” Eric replied, returning the cup to Alan’s hands.  “Didn’t you hear me come in?  Hey, is that my shirt?”

There was something prideful in Eric’s tone and Alan shook his head quickly, suddenly embarrassed as he opened the tea and distributed leaves into the strainer.  “No, I didn’t hear the door.  I was thinking, I guess.”

“Still thinking,” Eric surmised, his hand folding over Alan’s before the reaper could spoon too many leaves into the container.  “What’s up? You okay?”

Alan felt like he was going to cry.  He didn’t understand why; minutes ago he had been perfectly composed.  Eric’s voice was full of concern and guilt, like he blamed himself for whatever ailed Alan now.  But Eric had done nothing wrong.

 _‘In fact, he’s done everything right,’_ Alan thought, struggling to keep tears at bay.  _‘So what’s wrong with me?  I’m not sad…. Of course I’m not.  I’m not!’_

He laughed out loud, a quiet laugh, but light and joyful, and Eric smiled, though he didn’t know the reason for his boyfriend’s sudden cheerfulness. “I’m happy,” Alan said, ignoring the tea to put his full attention on Eric.  “And I don’t know how to handle it.”

“Ah, so you’re not mad at me,” the other reaper said, and Alan laughed again.  He was giddy and blissful, as if just seeing Eric was bringing all the feelings from last night back to the surface of his heart.

“No, silly,” he replied, confused as to why Eric would even think such a thing, “I’m not mad at all.  How on earth could I be?”

“Scaring you off is the last thing I want to do,” Eric said, and Alan shook his head.

“Never,” he began, but then Eric suddenly caught Alan’s hands, his expression longing and full of hope. 

“Do you think we can keep this going?  This…partners thing?”

Alan wondered when the last time had been that Eric dared to believe his bedmate could be his soulmate as well.  It occurred to him to consider if there had _ever_ been such a time.  He knew, Eric had told him, of the lifestyle the tall reaper had gotten trapped in.  Freeing one his hands from Eric’s, Alan rested it on the tall reaper’s left arm where he knew the rose tattoo was hidden under the white fabric.

“Isn’t that what this means?”

Eric nodded, expression hopeful, and Alan lifted his hand to place his palm tenderly on his partner’s cheek.

“I’m here for you if you’re here for me,” he smiled, squeezing the hand he still held.  “It’s a deal, Mr. Slingby.”

A grin broke across Eric’s face, full of relief and delight, and his green eyes sparkled as he planted a kiss on Alan’s lips to seal the promise.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Humphries, a true pleasure.”


	62. Over the Years

There was something about that morning.  It was a raw and hesitant moment, strange…but comforting, and in a simple kiss the two reapers came to an unspoken agreement.

Eric forgot to count the days as they went by.  He tried at first, here and there, to keep a mental track of the days since he and Alan had officially become a couple, but after a while it didn’t matter as much.  What did it mean to put a number to the times they were together?  All that really mattered was how those moments were spent, and Eric was happy to say they were spent very, very well.

There was something…satisfying in being in a relationship.  A good one, that is.  Eric had experienced plenty of unhealthy relationships and clung to what he and Alan had as if it was the best thing he’d ever had.

Who was he kidding: it _was_ the best thing he’d ever had.  Alan was the best thing.  Somehow, the younger reaper filled a gaping hole inside of him that he’d always been aware of but at a complete loss of how to fix.  Now he had a healing presence with him every day and night.

And he wasn’t afraid to be proud of it.  Not Eric!  The tall reaper would openly confess his love for Alan and during a Christmas office party, got significantly drunk enough to admit to the whole room that, no matter his nature and physical characteristics, Alan was in no way inadequate in bed.

That event got him a cold shoulder from Alan for a week.  The reaper got over it, eventually, but it would be false to say the two didn’t have their ups and downs, as any couple does.

Most of their arguments and disputes stemmed from familiar things, most commonly, their own inner struggles with being grim reapers.  Eric would slip into a funk, mood swings shaking him to the core, so he’d drink and smoke incessantly.  This would bother Alan who would get mad and snappish or fall into a bad mood of his own.  Sometimes Alan would be the first to become upset, having been particularly rattled by a collection or interaction with a soul.

Eric’s moods dragged him back to bad habits, settled a gloominess about him in a cloud.  If he wasn’t sullen and quiet, he was loud and rambunctious, and he often lost his temper while in these low spots.

Alan was quite different.  He became stiff and cold, refusing to interact with anyone, and when it progressed a step farther, he’d shut down completely, not speaking until he inevitably had a breakdown where he would cry for days.

It was generally these instances that shook them out of the worst of the painful occurrences.  Both would come crawling back to each other, tightly holding onto the connection they shared until they could look into each other’s eyes and smile again.

It was Eric that made Alan realize he believed in family again, for the first time in a long time.

Family wasn’t perfect, not hardly, but Alan didn’t need perfect.  All he wanted were people to love and it wasn’t hard to find them.  Eric of course, was there, by his side in times of joy or sadness.  He was there to have a picnic or sooth Alan after a particularly rough retrieval.  They were grim reapers, after all, and there were many moments of sorrow and pain.  But those periods of darkness only stitched together the greater times of light as the years drifted on.

Family stretched beyond Eric too. Alan hadn’t counted on grim reapers to be so…loving, when he had first arrived, but they had been human at one point and losing their lives didn’t mean leaving their humanity behind as well.  It was in friends that Alan soon called family that he found solace.  From Sam and Thom to Grell and Will, Eccles, Shelia, Joy and eventually Drake as well, there was comfort, support and hope.  It was something that only blossomed further as the clocks ticked and the sun rose and set.

The seasons came and went.  Spring brought Alan’s flowers, illuminating the yard and then the city as, bit by bit, reapers asked for Alan’s flowers for their own homes, and, each spring, Eric would take pictures of the surrounding houses, recording the spread of colorful petals as the want for flowers expanded through the reaper city.

Summer carried warm breezes and business trips to other countries as the weather became suitable for travel.  When they could, Alan and Eric took the time away for a mini vacations as well, spending free afternoons exploring other countries they were sent to for some grim reaper conference meeting or other.  Alongside meetings were the short trips to the beach for a swim, the city for dinner, the river for a boat ride with friends.

Summer also brought pestilence and disease in London, and the workload grew, but the blue skies reminded them to remain as positive as they could.

Fall was sad, for Alan’s flowers died or went to sleep beneath the ground one by one, or frost claimed them all in a merciless sweep.  Often at this time Alan would descend into a melancholy mood and couldn’t be coaxed into even smiling. He would cry at night, more often than usual, and Eric would comfort him, touch him, hold, kiss, make love to him, until the tears were gone.

Shelia brought joy to this season, praising the crisp air and pumpkins at Halloween.  She and Eric carved over twenty gourds one year, cutting out crude flower shapes and placing them around the barren garden.  That made Alan smile: a victory in Eric’s eyes.

When the first real snow fell, they went sledding.  Christmas came again, bring gifts and song and cheer.  Everything was cold and white and cruel on retrievals, but a gentle smile and loving arms were always there if a reaper needed them.  This hushed magical time passed far too quickly into slush and ice and then Alan was buying seeds again for spring.

And somehow…the years flew by.

Time was an odd thing: it could be slow and thick like crystalized honey, moving at a snail’s pace, and in the next instance it may speed by like a rushing river, whipping by like a stiff breeze and leaving everyone to wonder where the years went.  Any way you looked at it, time was a puzzle, but Alan and Eric considered their grim reaper lives, unending to their eyes, and were content to sit, hand in hand, and live as their number of years together grew.

How funny it was… At one point they had been a panicked, struggling student and a lonely, chaotic mentor!  It seemed ages ago, but at the same time, how easy it was to remember the very first days… And all the following days that may not have happened, had a certain teacher never knocked on Mr. Spear’s door….

Mr. Eccles raised his hand and knocked firmly on Will T. Spears office door.

“Enter,” came the usual cold tone, and Eccles went in, nodding a greeting to Will.

“May I have a moment of your time?”

“I am very busy,” Will said, but set down his pen.  “What do you want to speak to be about?”

Eccles stepped up to the desk. “It’s about Alan.”

“Ah, yes,” Will said. “I got your memo.  Sit down.”  The reaper opened a folder to get the paper, and Eccles sat down in the chair across, setting his things on the floor.

“I understand my request is presumptuous,” the teacher said, “But I believe it is grounded.  Alan is very good and kind with younger reapers, not to mention intelligent, and would be a fine addition to the Academy.”

“I agree with that statement,” Will said, and his tone was perceptive, “but Sendyn, are you subjecting this simply because you think Alan will make a good teacher, or because this job will allow him to spend less time out collecting souls?”

Eccles didn’t answer for a second.  “It is true it will lessen his interaction with souls.  That is part of why I came to you. However,” and here he looked with a keen eye at the management reaper, “I think that’s very same reason is why you are going to approve it.”

Will raised an eyebrow, displeased at having his decisions made for him, but then his expression softened, as much as Will’s expression could.  “I will consider it,” he settled on.  “Seeing as Alan is a level three reaper, his position is open to a variety of jobs, and teaching is one of them.”

Eccles refrained from smiling, knowing it would only irritate the other reaper.  Of course Will would get Alan approved as a teacher; he cared for the younger reaper as much as Eccles himself did, even if such feelings didn’t always show.  Eccles rose to his feet, picking up his bag and scythe before bowing slightly to the other.

“Thank you for taking the time to think about it,” he said, moving to the doorway. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Spears.”

“The same to you,” Will replied, his eyes still on the memo in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens over an undetermined number of years. I just wanted to them to have some time together <3 That's fair, isn't it?   
> Thank you for sticking with this story and reading on! :)


	63. The Offer

“Okay, okay, but Joy was like, ‘what’s the date, anyone know the date?’ and I’m like-.”

“Shut _up_ , Eric!” Joy shrieked, throwing a crumpled-up napkin at the tall reaper. “Quiet!”

“Tell, tell!” Drake prompted, and beside him, Shelia was trying so hard to stifle her laughter she nearly fell off the table they were sitting on.

“-I’m like,” Eric continued, talking loudly to be heard over the jabbering, “I’m like: ‘Joy, we’re at a Christmas Eve party, what date do _you_ think it is?’!”

Sam burst into laughter, choking on her coffee cake. “Oh my god!”

Thom slapped her on the back. “Please don’t die, Sammy,” he said through chuckles.

“I don’t even think she was _drunk_ yet,” Grell put in, and Joy punched the red reaper in the shoulder. “Oww!”

“Wow,” Alan laughed, “I’m sorry Joy, but that’s really funny.”  He rose to his feet as Eric sat back down in the chair beside him. “Anyone want a refill?”

“Me, please,” Sam said, still coughing.  Shelia lifted her cup as well, still giggling too much to speak.  Alan gathered the various mugs from any others who wanted more tea and went over to the stove range where a pot of hot water waited.

It was after work for the reapers, and all eight of them had gathered in a breakroom to eat and talk.  It wasn’t often that all of them were free like this, all at the same time, and Alan was determined to make the most of it.  Spooning fresh tea into the cups, he watched the leaves spin around and around as they were pushed about by the hot water he poured in.

Eric walked up behind him, dumping empty plates into the sink.  Moving in, he kissed Alan on the side of the head and leaned against the counter. “You alright?”

Alan smiled. Eric had gotten everyone up here today, together, for a few laughs.  Alan knew it was for him; he’d been…down, for a few days, on the verge of miserable, and Eric could always tell when he needed a change in mood.  Looking over at his partner, he nodded.

“I’m good,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder.  “They’re hilarious.”

“They are, aren’t they,” Eric chuckled.  Holding out his hands he offered, “Want me to carry some of those cups?”

Alan accepted the offer and they brought the beverages back to the group.  Eric hopped onto a table, feet on a chair, and Alan shook his head and sat down on a chair like a normal person.  The conversation went around, all fun, mostly laughs, and as only interrupted an hour later when the breakroom door opened.

“Mr. Eccles, welcome!” Shelia sang out, waving.

“Hi, Mr. Eccles!” Sam said with a grin, “Want some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” the teacher replied thankfully as he approached the small crowd.  Sam jumped up to get the drink, Eric shook his hand in greeting and Alan said, “Good evening, Eccles.  Would you like to join us?”

“We’re telling funny stories about one another,” Grell smirked, and Joy rolled her eyes.

“Embarrassing stories!”

Eccles chuckled and shook his head.  “That sounds fascinating, but I actually came to speak to Alan about something.”

That caught everyone’s attention, especially Alan’s.  “What is it?” the reaper asked, and Eccles motioned to the door.

“Could we speak in the hall?” Noticing everyone’s concerned expressions, he quickly waved a hand. “Don’t worry!  It’s nothing bad.  Just a private matter that Alan can decide to tell you in his own time.”

“Alright.” Alan stood and the two reapers left the room to stand in the empty corridor.  “I know you said it’s nothing bad, but I can’t help but be nervous.”

“I promise, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”  Eccles reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper before handing it to Alan.  “You see, I’ve been talking to Will lately about an idea I had, and he’s approved it.”

Alan’s eyes scanned the paper, taking in the offer written out in black ink.  Glancing up, his eyes were wide and incredulous.  “You want me to become a teacher?”

“It’s just as offer,” Eccles said.  “You don’t have to accept.  However, it comes with the perk of less soul collecting and more reliable work hours.”

Alan looked down again, the idea taking form in his mind.  He felt Eccles’s hand on his shoulder and he lifted his eyes to the reaper’s face.  “I think you’d make a fine teacher, Alan,” Eccles said, “If you want my opinion on it.”

Alan gave him a small smile. “Thank you.  I’ll have to think about it.... It’s quite an intriguing thought…”

Eccles sighed. “I was hoping you’d think so.  Take your time in deciding; there’s no rush.”

Alan nodded.  “Will you join us in there for awhile?”

Eccles hesitated, then nodded. The two returned to the break room, where the others immediately looked to them eagerly, questions in their green eyes.  Settling back in his chair, Alan glanced around and waved the paper slightly.

“I’ve been offered a teaching position.”

The group of reapers immediately erupted into a babble of praise and speculation.  Eric clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. “Nice!  You going to take it?”

“I don’t know yet,” Alan confessed as Sam handed Eccles his tea.  “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Take it,” Drake said, “It’ll be easy.”

“Ew, teaching,” Grell said, “ _I_ couldn’t do it.”

“You’d scare the students off,” Joy said and Shelia leaned forward. 

“Mr. Eccles, what’s teaching like anyway?”

Alan leaned back against Eric’s leg and listened as the teacher gave a small speech on what being able to teach at the Academy was really like.  He told a few funny stories about troubling students, without naming them of course, but his love for the job was perfectly apparent in his tone and mannerism.  Studying the piece of paper in his hands, Alan wondered what it would be like to take on the task of instructing new reapers on soul collecting…

That night, he sat at the kitchen island, chin propped in hand as he looked again at the invitation.  Eric whistled his way into the kitchen, followed by the cats.

“That’s enough paperwork for tonight!” he said, stretching his arms over his head.  Going to Alan’s side, he scrutinized the offer.  “Are you going to do it?”

“I’m not sure.” Alan glanced up at him.  “What do you think?”

“Me? It’s your choice.” Eric sat down on a stool. “But if you want my opinion, I think you should take it. Teaching is a pretty nice job, as far as reaper jobs go.”

“You’re good at it,” Alan smiled, and Eric chuckled.

“Says my only student ever.”  Getting up, he kissed Alan on the head and went to fridge. “I’m not cut out for it, but I think you’d be good.  You’re a different sort, Al, and it’s not a bad thing.”

Those words sunk into Alan’s skin and simmered just under the surface as Eric gathered up food and laid it out, settling into eating and talking about the day, not expecting a response to his prattle.

The evening wore on, but the decision was there in the back of Alan’s mind through the hours, sitting and waiting and poking at his brain.  Even as he read a book, did some paperwork, it didn’t leave, gently pushing him to think about it.  Not long before he would go to bed, Eric got out his guitar and sat on the living room floor to play.  Alan leaned against the doorframe with a warm cup of chamomile in his hands and listened to the tall reaper’s melodic strumming.

As a teacher, his responsibility would be to guide new reapers into their lives as soul collectors, and nothing sounded more horrible to Alan.  To be one of them who told him how to take a life?  Why would he choose to take that position?  He recalled so vividly the coldness of his mentors before Eric, the stiff professional mannerism they took with their students, strictly guiding them in the merciless direction of being a grim reaper.

 _‘Eccles was the only one who actually tried to help,’_ he thought.  _‘He didn’t push me to work harder, didn’t drive me until I broke… He sought out a mentor to guide me.’_

The reaper’s eyes, still on Eric but lost in his own thoughts, softened.  _‘If only there were more teachers like Eccles and Eric!’_

He startled himself with his own words.  If only…  Well, if he wanted a change in the system he’d have to make that change, wouldn’t he? He’d have to _be_ the change.  There was no good in standing about wishing when he had been offered the very chance to make a difference.

“I’ll do it,” he declared, and Eric stopped picking the guitar strings and glanced over.

“Hm?”

Alan stepped into the room and set his cup down on the coffee table.  “I’ll take the teaching position,” he said, sitting down beside his partner.  “To show someone how to kill…” He tugged at a thread in the carpet, paused, then spoke again. “I’d often wished there were more kind teachers.  I have the chance to be that teacher and maybe help a few students along the way.”

Eric smiled, and it was a pleased expression.  “That’s my flower,” he said, and Alan laughed at the nickname, resting his head on the tall reaper’s shoulder.  “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Alan replied.  “…Can you play some more?”

“’Course I can.”  Eric began to strum again, and Alan let his weary eyes drift shut.  He didn’t know what his decision would mean for him, but whatever the future held, he knew he’d have Eric by his side, and that’s what mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> (If you ever have thoughts/ideas you don't want to put down in the comments, don't be afraid to talk to me on Instagram!: @ nevareck_tophatcat)


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